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A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 
An Airedale Hero 



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A GENTLEMAN 
FROM FRANCE 

An Airedale Hero 



CLARENCE HAWKES 

Author of Dapples of the Circus P^pt the Wilder¬ 
ness **Master Frisky f **Black Bruin,'* 

**Tho Trail to the Woods," Piebald, King 
of Bronchos," etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

L. J. BRIDGMAN 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 





























0 



Copyright, 1924, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 

All Rights Reserved 

A Gentleman From France 


Printed in U. S. A, 


Vlorwood Pte60 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
Norwood, Mass. 


APR-2’24 


©C1A777787 

1 
















They galloped away.—P ag^e 44 . 





To every man^ womatty and 
child in the whole world who 
loves a good dogy this book 
is fraternally dedicated 



PREFACE 


Every reader of this book will be inter¬ 
ested to know that Pierre was a real dog. 
As real as bone and muscle, and dog in¬ 
telligence could make him. 

His American friends described in these 
pages were the author and his wife. 

Pierre came to us one Sunday morning 
while we were at breakfast just as de¬ 
scribed. We saw at once that he was a 
gentleman, in hard circumstances, and so 
took him in. 

During the few months that he was with 
us he wriggled his way into the very depths 
of our hearts, although he worried us 
greatly as well. When we finally said 
good-bye to him, it was with tears in our 
eyes. 


7 


8 


PEEFACE 


His life story both before and after his 
visit with us I have had to conjecture, as 
several links in this history are missing. 

For that reason I have not used the real 
name of Pierre’s mistress. 

About twelve years ago, one May morn¬ 
ing, an actress’s palatial private car rolled 
into the station at Northampton, Massa¬ 
chusetts, which is three miles from my 
home. The car stood on a siding in the 
meadow city for two days while the actress 
played an important engagement in the 
Northampton theatre, before a brilliant 
Smith College audience. The day after 
the car left, a notice appeared in one of 
the local papers advertising for one of the 
great lady’s dogs, which it stated had run 
away while the actress had been in the 
city. So far as I know, there were no 
answers to the advertisement. 


PREFACE 9 

Several months later a friend from 
Northampton who happened to be calling 
upon us exclaimed when she saw Pierre; 

“ Why, where in the world did you get 
Madame B/s dog? ” 

“ He isn’t Madame’s dog,” I replied. 
“ He’s just a tramp, although a very dis¬ 
tinguished one. He came to us last May 
and has had the best the house afforded 
ever since.” 

Then the friend told us of the actress’s 
loss, while in the city, and of the advertise¬ 
ment. She also said that she had seen 
the dog on the rear platform of the car, 
and the maid combing him. She bad like¬ 
wise seen him half an hour later in a lively 
dog fight in another part of the city. 
When she called the attention of a police¬ 
man to the identity of the dog, he only 
laughed and refused to arrest the run- 


10 


PREFACE 


away, and that was why he was not recov¬ 
ered at the time. 

Now the real name of the actress who 
played at Smith College on that occasion 
was Madame Sarah Bernhardt, but be¬ 
cause some of the evidence establishing 
the fact that Pierre was her dog is missing, 
I have not used her name in the story. 
So with this incomplete pedigree of the 
Gentleman from France, I leave the 
reader to follow his fortunes to the happy 
end. 


The Author. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PACE 

Introductory. My Doo - 14 

I. The Little Corporal « - 17 

II. Pierre - - - - 28 

III. Pierre Goes Up to Paris - 37 

IV. A War Dog - - - - 46 

V. Pierre Comes to America - 67 

VI. The Life of a Tramp - - 74 

VII. Pierre Meets the Killer - 90 

VIII. A Sorry Adventure - - 104 

IX. Pierre Makes New Friends 116 
X. Pierre Again Smells Powder 148 
XI. An Honorable Discharge - 188 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


They galloped away (Page 44) . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

The old man came bowing and smiling to 

the car.24 

He slipped his collar and ran for freedom 72 

He fled down the regimental street . 84 

“ You a War Dog, a hero! ” . . . 100 

The general stood before Pierre and read 

from a paper.102 


13 


MY DOG 


Come in, old beggar whining at the door, 

Come in, old chap, and lie upon the floor. 

And rest your faithful head upon my knee. 

And deem it joy to be alone with me; 

My dear old dog, unto creation’s end, 

Of all the world thou art my truest friend. 

Thou dost not ask if I be rich the while, 

Or if my coat is shabby or in style, 

Or if the critics call me small or great. 
Whether my life be full of joy or hate. 

Or if my purse be over-lean or fat. 

All through and through, thou art a democrat. 

Thou dost not ask that I be good to thee. 

It is enough that thou dost care for me; 

And if this hand could beat thee from my door. 
Thou wouldst come back at night and whine 
once more 

To lick the hand that made thy body smart, 
And love me still, deep in thy doggish heart. 

Thou dost not ask for dainty bread and meat 
But lovest best the food I will not eat. 

And sweet the bit, if looks I understand. 

That thou canst eat from out thy master’s hand, 
And while wise men to thank the Lord may fail, 
My dog says “ Thank you,” with his wagging 
tail. 


14 


MY DOG 


16 


And if my dog is sleeping in the hall, 

I have no fear that danger will befall, 

For thieves would find that passage doubly 
barred, 

A truer soldier never mounted guard, 

And lasting is a dog’s fidelity 
To those he loves, as man’s can ever be. 

What love is beaming in those two brown eyes. 
When chidden, too, what sorrow in them lies, 
And how they follow me from place to place. 

As though they tried to read their master’s face; 
And how he springs and barks when I am glad. 
How soon his tail will droop if I am sad! 

And when I die, if friends forget to pine. 
There’ll be one faithful dog to howl and whine. 
To bark impatient at my bedroom door. 

To search the woodland and the meadow o’er, 
And watch and whine for master who is late, 
And die at last still waiting at the gate. 


I 



A GENTLEMAN FROM 
FRANCE 

CHAPTER I 

THE LITTLE CORPORAL 

Old Jean Dubois was a dog-lover. 
What he did not know about dogs was not 
to be found in the dog dictionary, or any 
other reliable dog book. He talked dog 
by day, ate “ hot dog ” for lunch, and 
dreamed dog all night long. 

His canine friends were always scurry¬ 
ing between his legs, or jumping upon 
him; so he smelled of dog as well. 

It was very laughable to see him come 
out of Hotel Bellevue in Rue Galilee and 

start down the street. This was a signal 

17 


18 A GENTLEMAN PROM FRANCE 

to all the dogs in the neighborhood that 
their friend and master was afoot; so they 
would come scurrying from every side- 
street and alley, yelping and barking, and 
nearly wagging their tails off with delight. 

Finally the canine concourse would get 
so large that old Jean would have to send 
home a few of his friends to keep from 
being arrested as a dog nuisance. 

A still more laughable sight was to see 
some grand madame promenading along 
the street with her favorite dog on the 
leash. Suddenly the beloved canine would 
begin to strain frantically upon the cord, 
and no word from his mistress would 
soothe him. At last he would break awav 
with frantic yelps and make for old Jean 
Dubois, the dog man, whom he had espied 
coming up some side-street. 

Old Jean had been in the French aiTnv 


THE LITTLE CORPORAL 19 

in his younger days, and his grandfather 
had been one of the Old Guard at Water¬ 
loo. So next to dogs, or perhaps even 
before them, but in a different way, he 
worshipped soldiers, and the memory of 
Napoleon, whom he liked to refer to as the 
‘‘ Little Corporal.” 

Many a heated argument old Jean had 
with his grandson, young Jean of the 
Alpine Chasseurs, as to the merits of the 
new French army and the men of Na¬ 
poleon’s day, with whom the elder Jean 
had fought. 

Young Jean always concluded these 
arguments with the assertion that the 
Germans would never again thrash France 
as thev had done in 1871, at which the old 
soldier would shake his head. 

The defeat of the French under Louis 
Napoleon was a sore topic with the old 


20 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


soldier, and his grandson reminded him of 
it only when sorely pressed. 

Old Jean was as proud of the Alpine 
Chasseurs as was his grandson. 

He always took part in their discussions 
when Jean’s companions came to the 
stable to smoke and talk. Indeed they 
were a fine-looking lot in their gay uni¬ 
forms and with their soldierly manners. 
Young Jean himself was as tall as a 
Lombardy poplar and handsome as any 
French gallant, or at least that was what 
his doting grandfather thought as he 
feasted his eyes upon him. 

At Hotel Bellevue in Rue Galilee, 
where he was hostler, old Jean was allowed 
but one dog, and that was Nanette, an 
Airedale terrier. 

But in the eyes of old Jean, Nanette 
was a dozen dogs in one. She was de- 


THE LITTLE CORPORAL 21 

scended from a famous English strain and 
had taken many blue ribbons in her day, 
but was now well past her prime, and for 
that reason had fallen into the possession 
of the little Frenchman. 

She was a typical Airedale, with coarse, 
wiry coat, black above and tan beneath. 
She was tall and muscular, and could hold 
her own in any street scrimmage, no mat¬ 
ter what the company. Her keen terrier 
eyes looked warily out from under shaggy 
brows, always appraising one critically. 
Her ears were cocked with a slight droop 
at the tip, as though continually listening; 
this combination with the hairy face, gave 
her a quizzical look. As old Jean said, she 
always weighed you in the balance before 
making friends. 

One day in early spring, about six 
months before my story, Nanette ran away 


22 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

and made the acquaintance of Pierre 
Beaufort, a celebrated Airedale Champion 
at a neighboring hotel. This meeting had 
been one of many, and very familiar rela¬ 
tions were soon established. 

Old Jean knew nothing of all this, for 
he had been busy in the garden at the time, 
and absorbed by rumors of war. So his 
astonishment can well be imagined when 
he found Nanette one morning in a man¬ 
ger licking a newly born Airedale puppy. 

There was but one in the litter, because 
of Nanette’s age, but old Jean was de¬ 
lighted. He laughed and cried and 
hugged the old Airedale until she was the 
happiest dog in France. 

Though there was but one pup, it made 
up in size and beauty for a larger num¬ 
ber, and with the feeding and petting of 
old Jean and the extra milk from its dam. 


THE LITTLE CORPORAL 23 

it grew like a weed and was soon the idol 
of the hotel. 

The old soldier christened the new¬ 
comer Napoleon Bonaparte, and called 
him Nap for short, and often the “ Little 
Corporal.” So these were the names that 
he went by until Madame, the great 
actress, discovered him one day before 
Hotel Bellevue while she was passing in 
her limousine. 

The Little Corporal was playing in the 
yard when the shining machine drew up 
before the hotel. His play was never a 
tame affair, for he played as though the 
destiny of France hung upon the vigor 
with which he shook up the paper bag that 
he had just discovered. 

“ Stop, Laporte,” cried the great lady 
as she caught sight of the pup. “ I must 
have that dog.” 


24 A GENTLEMAN FKOM FRANCE 


She whistled shrilly to him. 

Instantly he ceased his play and sat up 
very alert on his stub tail, his head cocked 
on one side, his bright eyes looking warily 
at her from under his shaggy brows. 

Then she whistled again, and he cocked 
one ear, and let the other droop that he 
might listen the harder. This gave him 
such a ludicrous expression that Madame 
laughed. 

This was enough for Nap; that laugh of 
the actress, at which kings and queens had 
smiled, went straight to the heart of the 
Little Corporal, and with a series of 
frantic bounds he reached the panting car. 
He did not stop there, but bounded like 
a rubber ball through the open door and 
into the actress’s lap, soiling her beautiful 
fur coat with his muddy paws. 

But she did not care. She hugged him 



The old man came bowing and smiling to the car.— Page 24 























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THE LITTLE CORPORAL 


26 


and snuggled his whiskered face close to 
hers, and vowed if there was money 
enough in France to buy him, he should be 
hers. 

The chauffeur was then sent for Jean. 
The old man came bowing and smiling to 
the car. But when he heard what the 
actress wanted of him his face fell. If he 
had not been in the presence of a very 
great lady whom all France loved, he 
would have sworn at the idea of selling 
his dog. But instead, being a Frenchman, 
he wept. 

“ Madame,” he said hoarsely, “ I am a 
soldier, and can a soldier of France sell 
Napoleon? ” 

It was a pertinent question, but 
Madame began counting out shining louis 
until old Jean’s eyes bulged from his 
head. 


26 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


He had a grandchild who was a cripple. 
He had dreamed for years of taking him to 
a great surgeon. Here was the way open¬ 
ing before him. Besides young Jean 
would need money if he went away to this 
war that every one said was coming. 

He thought hard of little Adolph, and 
without even daring to look at the Little 
Corporal, nestled contentedly down in the 
lap of the actress, he silently stretched out 
his hand for the shining coins. 

Not saying another word, and with tears 
streaming down his wrinkled face, he 
turned and walked into the stable, not 
daring to even look behind him lest one 
glance at the hairy face of Nap might 
cause him to repent. When he had dis¬ 
appeared, the actress spoke to the chauf¬ 
feur and the car glided slowly out of the 
courtyard and down the street, on its way 


THE LITTLE CORPORAL 27 

to her chateau on the Loire, which was to 
be the new home of the Little Corporal. 

He had fallen into good hands. There 
was no doubt of that. No other woman 
in France loved dogs as did the actress. 
Her friends and servants would be good 
to him, because of the saying: “ Love me, 
love my dog.” But would the Little Cor¬ 
poral ever find another heart so true as old 
Jean’s? Would he ever find another sol¬ 
dier to romp and play with him as young 
Jean did? It was doubtful, but life is 
strange. Even the life of a dog may be as 
wonderful as a faiiy story; so we will fol¬ 
low the limousine and see for ourselves. 


CHAPTER II 


PIERKE 

When the limousine started slowly out 
of the courtyard before Hotel Bellevue, 
and he could see only the retreating back 
of old Jean, the Little Corporal was 
afraid. He began wriggling and whim¬ 
pering to be let down, but the actress had 
a way with her that none could resist; for 
had she not coaxed and wheedled two con¬ 
tinents, causing millions to laugh or weep 
as she willed? And so it was with Nap. 
She snuggled him in her warm coat, and 
covered his hairy face with kisses. She 
drew his shining ears through her fingers 
in that coaxing way that dog-lovers under¬ 
stand, and dogs love. She squeezed his 

paws between her small gloved hands, and 

28 


PIERRE 


29 


laughed and smiled at him, and in five 
minutes they were the best of friends. 

It must not be imagined that any woman 
could have picked up the Airedale and 
carried him off in this unceremonious man¬ 
ner, and so completely won his confidence. 
But the Little Corporal at once felt the 
great lady loved him. In fact, she had 
fallen desperately in love with him at sight, 
and being a true little gallant himself, he 
could not but reciprocate her love. 

If he occasionally sat down thoughtfully 
on his stump of a tail and tried hard to 
think what it was that he missed, if at such 
times a strange tugging at his impulsive 
heart caused a mournful look to over¬ 
spread his quizzical little face, there was 
no one to tell him that he missed his first 
love, old Jean. 

But the new life at the chateau was so 


30 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


varied and full of interest, and his mistress 
and her servants petted him so freely that 
in a day or two the stump of a tail was 
wagging away just as it had done at the 
Hotel Bellevue. 

There was no part of the chateau that 
was too good for Pierre, as the actress at 
once rechristened him—^not even her own 
boudoir. 

“ Pierre! ” she would cry, clapping her 
hands together the first thing in the morn¬ 
ing when she awoke. The Airedale, that 
was sleeping on a beautiful moquette rug 
at the foot of the bed, or sometimes even 
on the bed itself, would scramble up to her 
face. Then there would be a real rough- 
and-tumble love feast. 

Hoav scandalized tKe vast audience in 
Druiy Lane, or Broadway would have 
been to see her hugging, kissing, and 


PIERRE 


31 


fondling a mere dog! But her private life 
was her own, and she did with it very much 
as she pleased. The public and the theatre 
managers might tyrannize over her as an 
actress, but here she was supreme and her 
word was law. 

Marie, her special maid, was disgusted 
with the manners of her mistress’s latest 
canine love. She complained of him most 
grievously when she was sure of secrecy, 
but she never dared so much as breathe a 
word against Pierre in his mistress’s 
presence. 

Pierre’s feeling for Marie was one of 
contempt. With his keen intuition, he 
soon discovered that she was afraid of him. 
When he could catch her in an out-of-the- 
way corner he would back her up against 
the wall, and by growling prodigiously for 
so small a dog, and showing a double row 


32 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

of puppy teeth as sharp as needles, the 
roguish Pierre would scare poor Marie 
nearly into a fit. 

When she had screamed and wept to his 
complete satisfaction, he would back away 
and laugh at her, not audibly, but never¬ 
theless the laughter would run all over his 
hairy, alert face, and any dog-lover would 
have recognized it as the most mirthful of 
dog laughter. 

After one of these tragic scares Marie 
confided to Louis Laporte, the chauffeur, 
that the “ little devil ” would be the death 
of her. Louis, who was fond of Marie, 
kissed away her tears, and said Pierre was 
the most impudent piece of dog meat that 
had ever come to the chateau. 

If I were fo enumerate all tHe notable 
people whose acquaintance Pierre made 
during his six-months’ stay at the chateau. 


PIERRE 


33 


it would weary my reader, but suffice it to 
say that they were legion. 

Prime ministers, ambassadors, drama¬ 
tists, poets, and actors,—in short, all the 
great people who came to the chateau had 
first to do homage to Madame’s latest dog 
love; and of one accord, being very polite 
people, they pronounced him the most 
wonderful dog they had ever seen, 
although in secret afterwards some of them 
expressed themselves very freely to the 
contrary. 

But none of these things ever came to 
the ears of either the actress or Pierre. If 
he did occasionally hear other things not 
intended for his keen cocked ears, he kept 
his own counsel and so kept out of trouble. 

Early in the summer—it was July by 
the calendar, but of course Pierre did not 
know that—he noted great excitement 


34 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


among the people at the chateau. They 
talked much louder, and more continu¬ 
ously than usual. Each morning when 
Laporte came with the mail there was a 
great scramble for the Paris papers. No 
matter how quiet or peaceful it might 
have been before the mail came, there was 
always pandemonium after that. Some¬ 
thing was turning the chateau upside 
down. Dog that he was, Pierre under¬ 
stood this. 

The strange excitement that the papers 
always brought would cause the men to 
clench their fists and grow red in the face 
and cry “ Boche,” or “ La Guerre,” while 
the women would weep and look miserable. 

From all this, Pierre concluded in his 
dim dog way, that “ Boche ” was some¬ 
body or something very bad, and that La 
Guerre was also very bad. 


PIERRE 


35 


He likewise noted that Laporte put on 
the strange clothes that young Jean, his 
former playfellow, always wore. He could 
tell these clothes by the tight-fitting leg¬ 
gings. He could not reach under these 
trousers and nip the legs as he could with 
the ordinary suit. 

Most of the men who came to the 
chateau now wore these soldier suits and 
Pierre would go sniffing about their legs 
to see if by any chance one of them might 
be young Jean. 

He liked them all, for tKey were sure to 
tumble him about when they were not in a 
hurrj^ There was also something strong 
and rough about them that he missed in 
his pampered life at the chateau. 

Thus it was that Pierre noted the war- 
cloud that hung over France. 

Being a mere dog, he did not know that 


36 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Liege had fallen, or that the Germans 
were sweeping across Belgium a million 
strong; that they were coming in five 
great armies marching abreast, a mighty 
tidal wave of bayonets. Even France did 
not realize their numbers then, but all 
knew that terrible times were ahead. The 
men and the women knew it and Pierre 
felt it in the air and saw it in their faces. 






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CHAPTER III 


PIERRE GOES UP TO PARIS 

About the middle of August when it 
was very hot even at the chateau, and in¬ 
tolerable in the city, Madame, accom¬ 
panied by Pierre and Marie, set out for 
Paris. The actress was going to Paris 
to begin rehearsals with her company for 
a season in America. 

She would gladly have donned a uni¬ 
form in this, the hour of her countrv’s 
need, but that she could not do. She 
could, however, give her services in an¬ 
other way. Few women have earned 
more money than she, and it should all go 
to France. Money meant cannon, am¬ 
munition, food, and tents for the soldiers. 

In short, money was almost as essential as 

37 


38 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


men. Money she would give without stint. 
So up to Paris she went in the sweltering 
heat, with all the enthusiasm of youth. 

But it was not a normal France through 
which they travelled. All was hurry and 
confusion. The railroads were crowded 
with troop trains, and the highways were 
swarming with taxicabs and other motors 
filled with eager, sweating soldiers. At 
each load of soldiers Madame waved her 
hand, and Pierre barked gladly. For they 
"all reminded him of young Jean, whom 
he never would see again. 

Even upon the outskirts of Paris they 
were obliged to go very slowly, for every 
vehicle that could carry men or supplies 
had been pressed into service. All these 
were hurrying northward, while others 
were coming back empty, or filled with 
wounded soldiers. 


PIERRE GOES UP TO PARIS 39 

Dozens of times the luxurious car of 

Madame was held up in the gutter while 

seemingly endless lines of marching men 

passed. There were infantry and cavalry, 

artiller^^ and ambulance corps, and these 

in turn were followed by crowding lowing 

* 

herds of cattle, and bleating flocks of 
sheep—the rations on the hoof, following 
the army. 

At one of these exciting waits, a hand¬ 
some man in a gay uniform mounted on a 
splendid horse, rode up to Madame’s car 
and drew rein. 

“ Madame, the great actress,” cried the 
Colonel gaily, “ your friend, Colonel La- 
fleur. Don’t you remember? ” And he 
saluted her just as though she had been 
a general herself. 

The actress Held out her eloquent hand. 

“ I have been looking for you all the 


40 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

afternoon, Colonel,” she said, in her deep 
rich voice. “ .You are always in my 
thoughts.” 

She loved the Colonel and he loved her, 
but it was one of those unfortunate love 
affairs, which could never be realized to 
the full; for he was only a poor Colonel, 
without family or money, while she was 
the famous actress whom the world adored. 

“ This is my regiment,” he said, motion¬ 
ing to the splendid column, eight abreast, 
which was marching rapidly by. ‘‘In 
five minutes more, Madame, I must fol¬ 
low them. Even now I should be riding 
at their head. My country calls, but I 
may stay five minutes at the call of Cupid. 
Can we not crowd a year into five min¬ 
utes?” He rode close to the car and, 
leaning over, took the actress’s hand. She 
did not resist, but returned his pressure 


PIERRE GOES UP TO PARIS 41 


warmly. “ You are a brave man,” she 
said. “ I wish I could fight for France.” 

“It is such as you who inspire us to 
fight,” he returned. “We fight for the 
women and the children of France.” 

“ Four minutes are already gone,” he 
said, presently, glancing at the watch 

on his wrist. “ What a thief of time love 
is!” 

While they had been talking, Pierre had 
been watching the soldiers with wary eyes. 
As the last rank filed by, he barked ex¬ 
citedly. 

“ Your dog says I must go,” observed 
the Colonel. “ He has spoken truly. 
This is my last moment. Can’t you give 
me something that will go with me through 
the long march, and even through battles, 
to death if need be? ” 

Tears filled the actress’s eyes. She 


42 A GENTLEMAN FEOM PRANCE 

leaned over and printed a warm kiss upon 
the soldier’s hand. “ You may remember 
that/’ she said in a low, intense voice. 

“Will it mean anything more if I come 
back? ” asked the soldier. 

“ Probably not,” she returned. “You 
know how it is.” 

“ Yes,” he said sadly. “ I know.” 

“ I am sorry,” she said, “ but I am not 
mistress of my own life. None of us 
famous people are.” 

“ More’s the pity,” returned the Colo¬ 
nel. “ May I have this for a keepsake? ” 

He unclasped the bracelet on her wrist. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said joyfully. “ The 
things I can give, I give gladly.” 

Then looking down the Colonel’s eyes 
fell upon Pierre. He was watching the 
soldier warily from under his shaggy eye¬ 
brows. 


PIERRE GOES UP TO PARIS 43 


“ May I have this, too? ” he asked, lay¬ 
ing his hand on the dog’s head. “ He 
would keep me from being lonesome. He 
loves you, too. We would be company for 
each other. We would talk about you on 
the march, or in camp. I want him very 
much.” 

“ Pierre! Pierre! He is the dearest 
thing I have. Pierre, can I give you 
away? ” The Airedale looked up inquir¬ 
ingly, first at his mistress, and then at the 
Colonel. 

“ Yes,” she said at last. “ Take him, 
and God keep you both.” 

The Colonel glanced at his watch again. 
“ Time is up,” he said. “ Good-bye, my 
lady. If we do not meet again, we have 
had these five immortal minutes. I shall 
live them over again many times. Are 
you coming with me, my little soldier? ” 


44 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

The Colonel laid his hand upon the dog’s 
head. 

The Airedale had been sniffing at his 
coat-sleeve inquiringly for several sec¬ 
onds. He was one of the soldier-men, like 
young Jean. Pierre liked him. 

“ Are you coming with me? ” repeated 
the Colonel. Now the Colonel was a 
masterful man. When he spoke, men, 
dogs, and horses always obeyed. 

While the question was an invitation, 
yet it was also a command. The Airedale 
lifted his eyes to his mistress. Her eyes 
were filled with tears. 

“ Go, Pierre,” she said, “ and God keep 
you both.” 

The Colonel put one hand upon the 
dog’s collar and the other under his belly 
and lifted him to the pommel of the saddle. 
He saluted, touched his horse with the 


PIERRE GOES UP TO PARIS 45 

spur, and they galloped away after the 
rapidly disappearing regiment. 

The last the actress saw of Pierre, he 
was looking backward at her from under 
the ColoneFs elbow. 

He was going to be a soldier with one 
of the bravest men in France. Perhaps 
he would like that even better than his 
mistress’s petting and fondling. In some 
ways he was a man’s dog. Now he would 
be a War Dog. 

“ Laporte, start up the machine,” she 
said irritably. ‘‘What are we waiting 
here for? ” 

''Out, Madame,” said Laporte, and 
they moved slowly on into the heart of 
Paris and to work—^which after all is the 
best balm for aching hearts. 


j 


t 

u 


CHAPTER IV. 


A WAR DOG 

It was a sudden and complete change 
that had come into the life of the Aire¬ 
dale. From the luxury and ease of the 
car he had gone at a single bound, as it 
were, to the pommel of the ColoneFs sad¬ 
dle. 

From the small, soft hand of the actress 
to the strong, yet kindly hand of the man 
of iron. Of the two, he was not sure but 
that he preferred the strong hand, for he 
was a high-spirited animal, full of strife 

I 

and struggle. As long as he could see the 
car, he continued to look backward be¬ 
neath the Colonel’s elbow, but when they 
turned the next corner he faced about and 

looked up at the man. 

46 


A WAR DOG 


47 


“ That’s right, little soldier,” said the 
Colonel. “No more looking back for you 
and me. It must be forward at any cost 
for us from now on.” 

The horse joggled him so he could 
hardly keep, his seat upon the saddle, which 
was not built for man and dog. But 
finally the Colonel borrowed a blanket 
from a soldier and strapped it in front of 
him, and his little chum was made quite 
comfortable. 

They were in the very midst of things, 
with excitement all about them, and that 
suited Pierre. They were at the head of 
the fast-marching column. He had not 
imagined there were so many of the young 
Jean men in the world. The streets were 
lined with people, not soldiers, but just 
ordinary people, and they cheered as the 
long column swept by and Pierre wiggled 


48 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

about on his perch and barked, just as 
though the cheering had been intended for 
him, and perhaps some of it was. 

All through the afternoon till dusk they 
marched and marched. 

As they went on, the city streets were 
left far behind, and the broad macadam 
road ran through green fields and country 
villages. 

At dusk they halted in a field near one 
of the villages. 

The Jean men all threw down their 
blankets and knapsacks and began build¬ 
ing queer little houses. The Colonel and 
the other officers soon went to the village, 
where they were billeted for the night in 
the best quarters obtainable. 

Pierre took mess with the Colonel, eat¬ 
ing from his new master’s hand. After 
each bite there was a kind word or a 


A WAR DOG 


49 


caress. Thus they grew to be good chums, 
and their friendship ripened rapidly. 

It had been such an exciting afternoon 
and the Colonel was so good to him that 
Pierre did not once think of his mistress 
until the soldier drew the sparkling brace¬ 
let from his pocket and kissed it before 
lying down in his blanket in front of an 
open fire. He had been offered a bed but 
refused it, saying that he could not get 
accustomed to the blanket too soon. 

“ You want to kiss it, too, little sol¬ 
dier? ” asked the man, placing the bracelet 
before the dog’s muzzle. Pierre licked it 
and whined softly. 

“We both love her, don’t we, little sol¬ 
dier? We’ll keep right on loving her till 
the end of life, whether that be long or 
short—who knows? ” 

Pierre was filled with a great sense of 


50 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

homesickness at the smell of the bracelet. 
He went to the door and scratched upon 
it, then went back to the Colonel and 
begged to be let out. 

“ IFs not for us, little soldier,” said the 
man. “ Ours is the hard road ahead. 
You cuddle down with me and we’ll say a 
prayer for her and for ourselves. God 
knows we may need it. Then sleep. We 
can’t waste any time howling to-night.” 

All the time the strong hand had been 
caressing his head and drawing the soft 
ears between the fingers in the manner that 
dogs like. 

Then the Colonel put the dog between 
his feet under the blanket and soon both 
were asleep. 

In almost no time the bugler was blow¬ 
ing reveille, and both soldiers tumbled out 
of their blanket ready for the day’s march. 


A WAR DOG 51 

Bj half-past six the long column was on 
the road again, the Colonel and Pierre 
leading the way. 

When he had become so accustomed to 
the life that the Colonel felt sure he would 
not run away he would let him down to 
run beside the horse. On these occasions 
he would scurry up and down the march¬ 
ing column, barking frantically and nip¬ 
ping at the soldiers’ legs. These rhythmic 
marching legs, keeping time, all moving 
so rapidly, had a great fascination for 
Pierre. He, on his part, amused the sol¬ 
diers. He was adopted almost immedi¬ 
ately as the regimental mascot, and the 
men always hailed his appearance among 
them with shouts of delight. So alto¬ 
gether it was a most exciting and glorious 
life that the War Dog led. 

One night, three days after they had 


52 A GENTLEMAN PEOM FRANCE 

left Paris, they camped upon the brow of 
a high hill, which looked down upon a 
broad plain. On the farther side of the 
plain were some villages. There was a 
river running close to the foot of the hill. 

Beyond the villages, as far as the eye 
could reach, hung a great cloud of smoke, 
from which jagged flames of lightning 
spurted. 

All the afternoon they had been hearing 
distant thunder and it seemed to come 
from this dark cloud. The new soldiers 
all pointed at it and seemed much excited. 

That evening the Colonel was very busy 
and Pierre did not see him until taps. He 
was hurrying about among the men, and 
other men were constantly coming to him. 
There was a strange excitement in the air. 
Pierre felt it also. It made his nerves 
tingle and the hair stand up along his 


A WAR DOG 


53 


back. Somehow he wished that another 
dog would come along so he could get into 
a rough and tumble. 

The Colonel sent an orderly for him 
about ten o’clock and he was taken to the 
^officer’s tent. 

“ Hello, little soldier,” said the man 
pleasantly and Pierre barked a friendly 
greeting. “ This may be our last night 
together, messmate,” said the soldier as he 
divided his rations with his comrade. 
“We must make the most of it.” 

After mess he romped and tumbled the 
dog about for a few moments, and then 
fell to stroking his ears in that nice way 
he had. Pierre knew that the Colonel 
must love him. He could even feel it in 
his hands. 

They took out the bracelet and both 
kissed it. This night, Pierre did not 


54 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


whimper to go back to his mistress. He 
was fast becoming a soldier. Soon the 
bracelet was returned to the man’s pocket. 
“We both love her, don’t we, little sol¬ 
dier? ” The dog wagged his tail in assent. 

Then they said their prayer to the Gk)d 
of battle and rolled up in the blanket as 
they had done for the past three nights, 
the dog between the man’s feet. 

The following morning, reveille was 
earlier than usual. The man and the dog 
bolted their rations with the utmost dis¬ 
patch. 

When the meal was over, the Colonel 
picked up the Airedale and hugged him. 

“ I must go alone to-day, little soldier,” 
he said. “ Perhaps I sha’n’t come back. 
If I do not, they will send you back to her. 
Tell her I died loving her.” 

Pierre did not understand the words. 


A WAR DOG 55 

but he knew it was a solemn occasion. 
The man’s manner told him as much. 

“ Good-bye, dog, be good imtil we meet 
again.” He patted the dog upon the head 
and gave him to an orderly who took him 
away to a near-by house and locked him 
in the cellar. When Pierre discovered 
what had happened to him and that he 
was not going with his master, he set up 
a great howling and angry barking, but 
no one paid any attention to him. The 
fate of France hung in the balance that 
day; and what was a dog’s howling, or a 
child’s, either, for that matter? 

It was a day of blood and iron; so small 
things like a broken-hearted dog in a cellar 
did not count. 

For an hour Pierre raced up and down 
frantically, barking, whining, and howl¬ 
ing. He tried every possible chance for 


56 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

escape, but there seemed to be none. The 
door at the head of the stairs was locked. 
He sprang against it repeatedly, but it 
would not give. 

The windows were all too high for him 
to attempt. He sprang at each several 
times, but finally gave that up also. Then 
he sat down on his tail to think, but no 
way of escape came to him. Finally he 
lay down to rest, for the strenuous hour 
had tired him out. As he lay upon the 
ground, where earth sounds came plainly 
to his ears, he noted that the strange 
thunder they had heard all the day before 
was now much louder and more persistent. 
It must be a bad storm, indeed. It was 
a bad storm, for this was the day that the 
great man of France had said, “We must 
go forward now, no matter what the 
cost.” Every true Frenchman, and all 


A WAR DOG 


57 


Frenchmen were true in those days, was 
obeying the command. 

Pierre must have slept, for when he 
next noted the strange thunder it had 
swelled to a constant roar, which made the 
windows in his cellar rattle. Again he 
made a detour of the cellar, and he now 
noted a pile of boxes near one of the win¬ 
dows. They were piled up so evenly he 
could not scale them, but if they were 
tumbled down he might. 

With the thought, which was perhaps 
only an instinct, he began digging franti¬ 
cally under the bottom box. Three hours 
steady digging did the trick. He was 
nearly buried under the avalanche when 
the pile fell but he managed to scramble 
out and then jump upon the fallen heap. 

The window was now about three feet 
above him. The first spring shattered the 


58 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

glass and cut his face, but he was a little 
soldier. His master had said so. 

He sprang again, and broke away a 
part of the sash, which was rotten. One 
more jump carried him to freedom. 

He raced to the top of the hill where 
they had been the night before. The vil¬ 
lages he had noted upon the farther side 
of the plain were burning. The sky-line 
was red with the conflagration. The whole 
plain nearer the river was dotted with men 
running hither and thither. 

Flames belched, and thunder rolled all 
along the valley, as far as the eye could 
reach. His master, the Colonel, was some¬ 
where upon the plain, in the storm. They 
had all been going that way. 

He was a little soldier of France. He 
must follow. So he trotted down the 
road towards the one bridge that was still 


A WAR DOG 59 

standing, across which inachine-guns were 
constantly playing, and over which shells 
were bursting. It was a tendble storm. 
Once he whined and started to go back, 
but something seemed to be calling to him, 
so he returned and obeyed the summons. 

He was a War Dog. 

The sun crept through a smoke-filled 
sky to the zenith. 

The sun was very old, but never in its 
£eons of shining had it seen such a sight in 
brave France. The plain ran blood—^lit¬ 
tle rivulets in all the low places. The turf 
was tom with shells. 

Dead and dying men were everywhere. 
For a while the storm stood still, then it 
began to sway this way and that and 
finally, thank God, it rolled slowly away 
to the north and east. The tide had 
turned. 


60 A GENTLEMAN PROM FRANCE 

For this day at least, heroic France had 
been saved. 

The sun dropped slowly down the west¬ 
ern sky-line to the horizon, but only by the 
timepiece could you have told that it went. 
It was hidden from sight by the storm, the 
smoke, the flames, the dust, and the tears 
in men’s eyes. 

The dusk fell. The stars came out. 
The moon appeared. The cool of evening 
was over the landscape. The thunder had 
died away and the hush of night was over 
the land. 

The Colonel lay close to a hedge in a 
cool, green field. He had been lying 
there for many hours. He was not dead, 
but very close to death’s door. He lay 
upon a blanket, with a soldier’s knapsack 
under His head. He had received first aid, 
but the surgeon had said that he could not 


A WAR DOG 61 

afford to waste time on him. He was 
done for. 

The doctor had not thought the Colonel 
heard, but it was just as well. The Colo- 
nel had known all the time. He was try¬ 
ing to summon all his strength for a task 
he wanted to perform. Presently he felt 
something warm on his hand. He slowly 
opened his eyes. His little pal was lick¬ 
ing his hand and looking with anxious, 
fearful eyes into his face. 

He put up his hand with a great effort 

and stroked the dog’s head. 

“ Hello, little soldier,” he said weakly. 
“ I had just asked God to send me a mes¬ 
senger and he has sent you. You are the 
best ever.” Then he closed his eyes and 
remained very still for a long time. The 
dog licked frantically at his hand. Again 
he opened his eyes. 


62 A GENTLEMAN FEOM FRANCE 


“ Still here, little guardsman? ” He 
reached slowly into his pocket and brought 
out the bracelet. He kissed it feebly. 
The dog kissed it also when he held it up. 
“ You must take it back to her,” said the 
soldier. “ I will write in a minute.” 
Again he rested. Once more he opened his 
eyes and smiled at the dog. The dog 
wagged his tail. 

The Colonel reached in his pocket pain¬ 
fully and brought out a pencil and paper. 
He wrote a little, then rested, then wrote 
again. Once he slept, and the watching 
dog thought he would not wake. The 
doctor might have thought so, too, if he 
had seen. But life is strong when love 
calls, and he again resumed the letter. 
When it was done, he read it slowly to his 
companion. He barely whispered these 
words, and often stopped to rest: 


A WAR DOG 


63 


“ Dear lady: I am sending him back to 
you. The little soldier. He will bring 
back the bracelet and my love. I am 
dying, but I am very happy. I have seen 
the Germans’ right turned, and I think 
France is safe. Many a brave French¬ 
man will sleep well to-night for that sight. 
Please keep the bracelet and wear it al¬ 
ways on your left wrist for me. It is 
sweet, dying for the one you love, and your 
country. 

“ My War Cross, I am giving to my 
little chum. Let him wear it always. 
Bury it with him. Next to you, I love him. 
God has sent him to me to bear my love to 
you. I am very tired. I must stop now. 
Taps will soon sound. It is sweet to die 
for one’s country. Do not grieve for me. 
I am not grieving for myself. Keep me 
always in your heart. Taps will sound in 
a minute.” 

He folded the note and tucked it be¬ 
neath the dog’s collar. Then with his 
handkerchief wet with his heart’s blood, he 
bound the note firmly to the collar. Next 
he took off his War Cross, la Croix de 


64 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Guerre, and clasped the chain about the 
dog’s neck. Then he kissed the dog on 
his head. 

His sight had nearly left him. His 
senses were reeling. It was only by great 
will power that the Colonel kept his mind 
working. 

“ Home, Pierre,” he said sternly, 
“ Home.” He patted the place on the 
collar where the bracelet lay. The dog 
cocked his ears and listened. “ Home,” 
repeated the man of blood and iron. The 
dog whimpered. “ Home,” he repeated 
again, and struck him sharply on the 
shoulder. The dog whimpered but turned 
partly about. Again he slapped his 
shoulder. The Colonel listened intently 
and smiled as he heard his paws patting 
slowly down the road. Ordinarily he 
would have doubted if he would ever find 


A WAR DOG 


65 


home and his mistress, but he was sure 
now. God was sending him. All would 
be well. 

With a deep sigh the man lay back upon 
his knapsack. Once his lips moved, but 
no words came. Taps sounded, and he 
slept with the smile of victory on his pale 
face. 

Three days later a footsore, forlorn 
Airedale limped up the shady avenue to 
the chateau on the Loire. Five minutes 
afterwards the actress’s private secretary 
was reading the Colonel’s love note to 
Madame. When she had finished, she 
wiped the tears from her eyes, and tied the 
note carefully back on the collar. 

She noted that the War Cross was safe 
upon the dog’s breast. She also noted a 
bullet hole in one of his ears and blood 
upon his face. 


66 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

An hour later both secretary and dog 
were travelling to Paris on the express. 

That evening, in her dressing-room, 
after the first act, with the dusty, dirty 
Pierre in her lap, the actress read the 
Colonel’s last letter. When it was finished 
she sat very still until her maid told her 
to hurry, for the next act had begun. She 
tucked the note away in her bosom and 
went upon the stage, to pla}^ Juliet as she 
had never played that love part before. 


CHAPTER Y 


PIERRE COMES TO AMERICA 

About the first of October the actress 
concluded her rehearsals in Paris and 
went back to the chateau for a week. 
There had been delays in booking her 
American engagements, and also in get¬ 
ting passage across. All the western- 
bound steamers were crowded with fleeing 
Americans, eager to get home before it 
was too late. 

Once back at the chateau, there was 

gTeat commotion. There were countless 

new dresses and costumes for Madame, 

and a score of trunks were packed. Pierre 

did not even know what it all meant when 

he heard Marie telling Louis that Madame 

67 


68 A GENTLEIVIAN FROM FRANCE 

was going to take that Satan of a dog 
with her to America. 

“ Last year,” wailed the tearful Marie, 
“ it was the hateful Pomeranian, and this 
year it is this little imp. I know he will 
be the death of me before we get back. 
He is worse than the other.” 

^larie wept copiously, and Louis, being 
a gallant Frenchman, embraced her and 
Pierre was forgotten. 

There was no use of objecting if 
Madame had made up her mind, so to 
America the Airedale went, as the most 
priceless and altogether adorable thing in 
her possession at the time. 

She might love other dogs later on, but 
now Pierre was enough. 

He slept in her stateroom during the 
voyage, and was waited upon by the dis¬ 
gusted Marie and the other maids, as 


PIERRE COMES TO AMERICA 69 

though he had been the only child of the 
great lady. 

Every one on shipboard petted him, and 
admired his War Cross, for they soon 
understood that this was the shortest way 
to the graces of Madame. 

Uj) and down the country in a luxurious 
private car the little soldier toured, written 
up by newspaper reporters and lauded by 
theatre managers, until he came to the 
college town of Meadowdale. Here he 
took matters into his own hands and 
thereby changed the current of his entire 
future life. 

Pierre was not happy travelling in 
Madame’s private car! Not as happy as 
he had been with old Jean or with the 
Colonel. He was fondled and played with 
by his mistress to his heart’s content, and 
admired by all who visited the car, but that 


70 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

was not enough for him. There was some¬ 
thing that should have been in his life 
which he missed. 

He would sit for hours on the leather- 
covered seat, looking wistfully out of the 
car window at the wide world through 
which he was passing so rapidly. He was 
watching for other dogs, and longing for 
the freedom of the outer world, that the 
poorest cur enjoyed more than he. 

When he saw other dogs playing bois¬ 
terously and even indulging in that wonder 
of wonders, a dog-fight, he would stand 
with his fore-paws on the window ledge, 
and bark frantically. The week of stren¬ 
uous life as a War Dog had spoiled him 
for the pampered life. If he could only be 
out in this great free world of dog-fights, 
what would he not give? His world was 
bounded by the four walls and the ceiling 


PIERRE COMES TO AMERICA 71 

of the car, but theirs was circumscribed 
only by the sky, and the four points of the 
compass. 

He always made it a point to sleep with 
one eye open in the evening, so that he 
would be ready to receive his mistress when 
she came in from the theatre about mid¬ 
night, She was always gay then, and 
would romp and tumble him about, in a 
manner that well suited the husky Aire¬ 
dale; but one short romp each evening was 
not enough for him. He must have life, 
and more of it, such life as he had had with 
the Colonel. 

This parlor car was stifling him. He 
must get away. 

Probably the move was not premedi¬ 
tated—just an impulse carried out on the 
spur of the moment; but one morning 
while Marie had him out on the rear plat- 


72 A GENTLEIVIAN FKOM PRANCE 

form of the car combing and brushing 
“ the little Satan,” as she called him, quick 
as a flash he slipped his collar and ran for 
freedom, just as many another dog, or 
even a boy, has done, out into the great, 
wide world. 

Poor Marie was panic-stricken when she 
saw what had happened. Much as she 
hated Pierre, to have been the innocent 
cause of his loss filled her with terror. 

With tears in her eyes, and with a 
pounding heart, she took the empty collar 
and the limp leash to the actress. 

The great lady was furious. She 
stormed and wept, and would have dis¬ 
charged the luckless Marie on the spot, 
only that she was the best maid she had 
ever employed and she could not get an¬ 
other readily. She sent her servants 
chasing through the city, and the evening 



Hb slipped his collar and ran for freedom.— Pa.gre 72 . 















PIERRE COMES TO AJVIERICA 73 

papers contained advertisements for the 
Airedale, but all to no purpose^ He was 
lost to them as completely as though the 
earth had opened and swallowed him. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE LIFE OE A TRAMP 

Bow-wow, hurry-scuny, but it was fun 
scampering down the street. 

He could hear the cries of the distressed 
Marie, and from scoldings that his mis¬ 
tress had given her on other occasions 
when she had failed to give him his bath 
at just the right time, or had not thor¬ 
oughly combed and brushed his coat, he 
knew just the kind of a raking-over she 
would get. 

There was not freedom enough on the 

sidewalk for his newly found ambition so 

he soon took to the road, which was broad 

and unobstructed, save for occasional 

teams and automobiles. This was what he 

had longed for all through the weary 

74 


THE LIFE OF A TRAMP 


75 


month of their tour. He ran so fast and 
so furiously for a time that people stopped 
to look after him, and soon this freak of 
his nearly cost him his life. 

He had reached the outskirts of the city, 
when, as he turned a comer, he ran almost 
between the legs of a policeman who was 
out on a stray dog hunt. 

He noticed the Airedale was without 
collar or master, and, being a dog-hater, 
he whipped out his revolver and fired at 
the unsuspecting Pierre. 

There was something sinister in the 
sharp crack of the revolver, and in the 
whistling bullet that kicked up a shower 
of sand, so Pierre sprang through an open 
gateway which happened to be placed just 
right and disappeared before the police¬ 
man could fire again. 

It was a narrow escape. Perhaps after 


76 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

all everything was not so fine in this great 
new world into which he had fled so glee¬ 
fully. 

Two blocks farther on he entered a 
private yard, and came face to face with 
one of his own kind. 

Now in dog etiquette a strange dog 
should not enter the yard of another dog 
until he is invited by that dog. Pierre did 
not know this law of dogland, as he had 
always been a law unto himself, and had 
not associated much with other dogs, since 
his days at Hotel Bellevue, and then he 
was too young to have learned the ways of 
dogs. 

So when the big bull wrinkled up his lips 
and growled, saying in dog langTiage, 
“ See here, my fine fellow, what are you 
doing in my front yard?” the Airedale 
mistook the challenge for an invitation to 


THE LIFE OF A T R AMP 77 

engage the bulldog in battle, or perhaps as 
a personal insult. 

Here then was the thing for which he 
had been looking so long, a genuine fight; 
so he went in like a little fury. 

Soon his excited yelping and snarling 
brought half a dozen eager boys to the 
scene, and they all with great partizanship 
began cheering on the white bulldog, 
though he really needed no encourage¬ 
ment, but went at his adversary in a veiy 
businesslike manner. He did not bark 
nor growl, but steadily advanced upon the 
Airedale, unmindful of the other’s con¬ 
stant snapping, waiting for the opening 
that he wanted. 

The bulldog was much heavier than 
Pierre, and also an old fighter. Although 
the Airedale fought furiously, advancing 
and retreating like a flash, and punished 


78 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

the bull freely, yet he was no match for 
him. Almost before he knew it, the older 
dog had him by the throat and was slowly 
shutting off his wind. Struggle as he 
would, he could not free hiiiLself. , 

His eyes bulged and his breath came in 
wheezy gasps. 

“ Wow, wow,” he had not imagined a 
dog-fight was a serious thing like this. 
He had always considered it, a rather 
strenuous rough and tumble that usually 
ended amicably. 

Soon the world began to grow dark, and 
he slumped down in a limp heap. 

Just in the nick of time, when the victor 
had almost choked the last spark of life out 
of him, a humane man came to the rescue 
with a pinch of snuff, which he blew into 
the nostrils of the bulldog. This caused 
him to loose his hold and sneeze violently. 


THE LIFE OF A TRAMP 79 

and in that instant Pierre’s rescuer 
dragged him from the bull’s jaws. Then 
he had a boy bring out a pail of water 
which he threw over the Airedale, that 
soon sat up and blinked. In five minutes’ 
time he was as good as new, but he had 
found out all he wanted to know about 
dog-fights for that day. 

“ But, Papa,” protested one of the 
boys, ‘‘ he came into our yard and pitched 
into Tige.” 

“ He’s nothing but a puppy,” replied 
the man. “And he is such a beauty I 
could not let Tige kill him. He will know 
better next time.” 

Pierre saw that the man was a friend, 
so he went over to him and licked his 
hand, as a token of friendship and grati¬ 
tude. 

Then it was that the man noted the 


80 A GENTLEMAN FKOM FRANCE 

chain about his neck and the War Cross. 
“ What have we here? ’’ he asked, putting 
his hand to the Airedale’s neck. Pierre 
backed away. Perhaps they wanted to rob 
him of his precious chain and cross, but 
the man coaxed and talked to him reassur¬ 
ingly and was soon able to examine the 
war trophy. 

“ La Croix de Guerre,” he read. 
“ Boys, this dog is a war hero. He is 
wearing the War Cross of France.” 

Pierre was much pleased that they had 
discovered his importance and wagged his 
tail freely, while the boys all crowded 
about him to admire the cross. 

He would have liked to stay with the 
good man notwithstanding the fact that 
the bulldog glowered at him out of the 
corner of his eye, but the man and boys 
soon drove him out of the yard by throw- 


THE LIFE OF A TRAMP 


81 


ing sticks at him, and he heard the man 
say, “ He will soon go home if we do not 
pet him.” 

Home, why, yes, he would go home to¬ 
morrow, but for the present he must see 
more of this great world, even though it 
was rather strenuous. Soon he espied a 
dog running with a team. What fun that 
must be! So he scurried after them and 
joined the dog under the vehicle. But the 
dog growled savagely at him and drove 
him a wav. 

The team must belong to this dog, just 
as the yard had belonged to the bulldog. 
Well, he would hunt up a wagon for him¬ 
self. So the first team that chanced to 
drive by he ran barking after and took his 
place under the wagon, just behind the 
horses’ heels as he had seen the other dog 
do. 


82 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

My, but it was fun, scampering along 
behind the horse, with the great round 
wheels rolling along beside one! This was 
life! This was the world—the real thing. 

All went well for a mile or two, until 
the team stopped and the man hitched the 
horse to a post and went into the house. 

Then poor unsophisticated Pierre went 
up and smelled the horse’s heels. He 
wanted to make friends. 

It was lucky the horse was only nervous, 
and not vicious, but even then it was bad 
enough, for the kick that Pierre got rolled 
him entirely out from under the wagon, 
and so badly lamed his shoulder that at 
first he thought it was broken and could 
not be used. So Ke ran ki-yi-ing down a 
side-street, while some boys who had been 
watching laughed, and thought it a great 
joke. 


THE LIFE OF A TRAMP 83 

For the rest of the day Pierre went on 
three legs, and was a very sorrowful little 
dog. 

His next adventure was even more dis¬ 
heartening, for by it he almost lost faith 
in the soldier-men who had always been 
such good friends to him. 

About the middle of the afternoon he 
discovered a road leading out of the city. 
It did not seem to be as much used as the 
others, so he followed it. Soon it brought 
him out upon a hill where he could look 
down into a broad green meadow. Here 
a wonderful sight met his eyes. The 
meadow was covered with the small houses 
that the young Jean men always lived in. 
With a glad yelp he started for the sol¬ 
diers’ camp. 

The local State Guards were camping 
upon the fair ground for three days sub- 


84 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

sequent to their departure for training- 
camp. 

Pierre trotted into the midst of the 
camp, head erect, tail up. 

This was great. This was home. Per¬ 
haps he would find the Colonel. 

Half-way down the regimental street, a 
fine, tempting odor came to his nostrils. 
Then he remembered he was very hungry, 
so he started for the mess tent. The cook 
was busy in the back of the tent and did 
not see him enter. The first thing the 
hungry dog’s eyes fell upon was a ham 
on the table near the entrance. 

Without saying as much as by your 
leave, he sprang upon the bench and began 
pulling down the ham. Just then the cook 
looked around. 

Bang, whang, clatter! Ki-yi! Ki-yi! 
The cook had fiung a kettle cover with 



He fled down the regimental street,— Page 83. 









\ 


THE LIFE OF A TRAMP 85 

such good aim that he had hit the luckless 
Pierre on the head. 

He fled down the regimental street fol¬ 
lowed by missiles and curses. 

Two other dogs who had seen him run¬ 
ning joined in the chase and he was run 
out of camp in disgrace. 

Pierre was astonished, angry and dis¬ 
gusted. These soldier-men were surely 
different from those he had known. He, 
a War Dog, driven out of camp like an 
ordinary thief. 

By night-time he was ravenously hun¬ 
gry and cold, and it was beginning to rain. 

A couple of raw eggs and some steak 
would taste good. He had seen about 
enough of the world, anyway. He would 
go back to his mistress. What a scare he 
had given her! 

So he threaded his way carefully on 


86 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


three legs back to the switchyard, where 
his mistress’s private car had stood in the 
morning. He found the place all right, 
for he had all the keen instinct of a dog, 
but the car was gone. 

Ah, well, it did not matter much. The 
road was very plain. Two long sticks 
and a lot of short ones running across 
showed the way. He and his mistress 
always followed just such a road as this 
when they travelled in the great car. So 
he started limping down the track on three 
legs. 

For perhaps three miles he followed the 
straight plain road and then he came to 
a place where it was very queer. The 
road with the two long sticks and the cross 
sticks still lay ahead of him, but it was 
very high up, and there was a great ex¬ 
panse of water beneath. 


THE LIFE OF A TRAMP 87 

He sat down on his stump of a tail and 
looked at it for a spell. It looked rather 
scary, but he was very hungry, and of a 
sudden a great longing for the lady whom 
two continents admired began tugging at 
his dog heart. So he got up and limped 
on to the railroad bridge. 

It made him afraid to look down at the 
water when he was out in the middle of 
the bridge, so he looked ahead and limped 
along as fast as he could. 

When he had reached the middle of the 
bridge, where it was very high and was 
wondering whether he had better turn 
back or go forward, he heard a thunderous 
noise behind, and looking over his shoulder 
saw the great shrieking, rumbling thing 
that always drew his mistress’s car coming 
on to the end of the bridge. 

It came straight at him rumbling, roar- 


88 A GENTLEMAN PROM FRANCE 


ing and hissing. He started to go for¬ 
ward as fast as he could, but it was not 
fast enough, and almost before he realized, 
it was upon him. 

He gave one frightened glance over his 
shoulder, and another down into the 
river, then jumped. 

Thirty feet below he struck the water 
with a mighty splash, and went under so 
far that it seemed as though his lungs 
would burst before he came to the surface. 
But presently up he came, blowing and 
sputtering. 

“ Did he drown? ” I hear my reader ask. 

Oh, no! What a foolish question. Not 
he, for he was a dog. 

He had the natural instincts of an 
animal, and in some ways man is the most 
helpless of all the animal kingdom. 

He merely walked ashore in the water. 


THE LIFE OP A TRAMP 


89 


That is what it seemed like to him, but it 
was really swimming. 

All his kind since the first dog had 
known how to swim, and he was not such 
a fool as to drown. 

When he scrambled up on the bank and 
shook himself free of water, he was prob¬ 
ably the most sorrowful, water-soaked, 
altogether lonesome little dog in the whole 
world. He wanted his home, he wanted 
his mistress, he even wanted Marie; but 
he had lost them all. 


CHAPTER VII 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 

That night Pierre dug into a corn 

shock and was very glad of the protection 

of the coarse corn-stalks. It was now 

October and the nights were rather chilly. 

Pierre, being a pampered pet, felt the 

cold much more than the ordinary dog. 

At the chateau he had slept upon a soft 

moquette rug, or on the actress’s own bed. 

Even in the private car he had possessed 

a velvet rug; and now to be thrust out into 

the cold world made him shiver. 

He could not get to sleep for some 

time. This life was not like anything that 

he had ever known. It was more like the 

rough life that he had led with the Colonel. 

But even that was different. The Colo- 

90 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 91 

nel had always petted him, and that was 
what he missed now. It was not so much 
that his bed was uncomfortable, as it was 
that his dog heart craved love. 

Love had always been lavished upon 
him even from his puppy days with old 
Jean. He had not known then what a 
priceless thing it was. 

The following morning he crawled out 
very early. In the private car he had been 
in the habit of sleeping late, just as the 
actress did. But it was cold on this Octo¬ 
ber morning, so he crawled out of his corn¬ 
stalk bed and ran for half a mile to get 
warm. 

There was frost on the dead grass. It 
was white and sparkling and very cold. 
Pierre had never seen anj^ frost in sunny 
France. 

First the Airedale slaked his thirst at 


92 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

a brook and that made him feel better. 
Then it was that he noted that he was 
prodigiously hungry. My, but what 
would he not give to be back in the car 
eating his porterhouse steak! iWow, 
wouldn’t a raw egg taste good! 

So Pierre started on a foraging expedi¬ 
tion. He must remember some of his 
sorry lessons of the day before. He must 
not go into another dog’s yard unless he 
was invited. He must not run after an¬ 
other dog’s team. He must keep away 
from soldiers, because the soldiers here 
were not like the young Jean men in 
France, nor like his good master, the Colo¬ 
nel. Instead of petting you, they threw 
things at you. 

He must not get on that strange straight 
road where his mistress’s car travelled. 
If he did, the shrieking monster would 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 93 

chase him. Wow, wow! What a fright 
it had given him. He certainly would 
keep away from that roadway with the 
straight shining sticks. 

So with all these precautions firmly in 
mind, Pierre did not get into as much 
trouble that day as he had the day before; 
but he did not find anything to eat for a 
long time. Gradually he learned a very 
sorry lesson which made his running away 
much harder to bear. Whenever he ap¬ 
peared at a farmhouse where there was 
another dog, that dog usually barked at 
him and drove him away. If there 
wasn’t any dog, the people drove him 
away. Sometimes they merely shouted, 
but more often they threw things at him. 

So the painful fact that he was an out¬ 
cast was gradually driven home to the 
luckless Pierre. From being the petted 


94 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


and pampered favorite of the great lady, 
he had gone at one bound into a world 
that gave him the cold shoulder on every 
hand. 

No one in the whole world wanted him. 
He did not belong to any one. Other 
dogs owned houses, and had masters and 
mistresses. 

Other dogs owned teams and could run 
behind them. Other dogs had queer little 
houses that they slept in in the back yard. 

Pierre had never seen a kennel in 
France, but he did envy these American 
dogs sticking their heads out of their cute 
little houses. 

So as the day drew on to its close a 
great sense of loneliness and heartsickness 
came over Pierre. If some one would only 
speak to him, or whistle for him to come. 
He would give almost anything if he 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 95 


could only feel a human hand on his head, 
or some one running his ears through their 
fingers. 

Also, the pangs of hunger were gnaw¬ 
ing at his vitals, and this double discom¬ 
fort was almost unendurable. But about 
dusk he spied a man dumping some refuse 
in an open lot. The man was shoveling 
it from a wagon. A dog was lying on the 
grass watching him. So Pierre knew the 
man and team belonged to that dog. 

Finally the man finished and drove 
away, and the dog trotted after the team. 
From where he was hiding behind a fence ‘ 
watching them, Pierre thought he could 
smell raw meat. When he finally crept up 
to where the team had been, he discovered 
that it was indeed raw meat. But it was 
not the sort he was used to. 

Porterhouse? Well, I should say not. 


96 A Gl^NTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

The man was a butcher and the meat was 
the refuse from a steer that he had killed 
that afternoon. 

Pierre tasted a piece and it made him 
gag so he spit it out. Then he tried an¬ 
other piece, but that was just as bad. 

So he went all through the pile trying 
vainly to find something to his liking. At 
last he sat down on his tail before the 
sorry meat and a great sense of homesick¬ 
ness and loneliness came over him. It was 
so great that although he was an Airedale 
and a dog with a stout heart, yet he lifted 
his muzzle and howled dismally. 

Pierre was so wrapt in grief and so 
overpowered with a sense of his loss that 
he did not even notice the Killer until he 
heard a deep growl almost beside him. 
Wheeling sharply, he came face to face 
with the ugliest-looking old bulldog that 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 97 

he had ever seen. He was a dirty white. 
His ears were chewed to ribbons and he 
had lost one eye. His coat was rusty. 
His eyes were bloodshot and his lips were 
wrinkled up into an habitual snarl. He 
looked so belligerent that Pierre instinc¬ 
tively drew back. 

“ Growl, growl, growl,” said the Killer 
wrinkling his lips up still further. “If 
you ain’t a pretty purp to sit here on your 
aristocratic tail howling like a fool, when 
there is such a fine dinner right here before 
your ver}^ nose.” 

“ Ki-i, yi-i,” whimpered Pierre. “ But 
I tried to eat it and I couldn’t. It made 
me sick. It is vile stuff.” 

The old bull drew back and looked at 
Pierre intently for several seconds; then 
he resumed his deep growling. Pierre 
finally decided this growling did not mean 


98 A GENTLEMAN PROM FRANCE 

very much, but the old fellow had gotten 
into the habit of growling about every¬ 
thing; it was sort of second nature with 
him. 

“ Couldn’t eat it, did you say? Made 
you sick? Well, my fine dandy, you must 
be somebody’s woolly lamb dog. You 
must be a sort of blanket poodle. Might 
I inquire just who you are and where you 
came from? ” 

Pierre did not notice the irony in the old 
bull’s tones and was all eagerness to tell 
his story. He wagged his tail vehemently 
and smiled his very best dog smile. 

“ You see,” he said, edging up close to 
the old fighter and becoming confidential, 
“ I am a stranger in these parts. My home 
is in France. 

“ That is away off, far across the great 
water. We came in a mighty floating 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 99 

house. There were lots of folks and a few 
dogs. 

‘‘ My mistress is a very great lady. She 
goes about in a house on wheels. Lots of 
people came to see us. They all used to 
pet me and Mistress would tell them how 
smart I was. You see I am a war hero. 
This is my War Cross on the chain about 
my neck.” 

But instead of admiring him as Pierre 
had expected, the old bull growled still 
more savagely than before. His one eye 
also seemed to be watching Pierre sus¬ 
piciously. Finally the Killer spoke be¬ 
tween deep growls. 

“ You are a four-flusher,” lie said. 
“ You can’t pull that stuff on me. I ain’t 
a woolly lamb, purp. I wasn’t born yes¬ 
terday. You are a four-flusher.” 

‘‘ What is that? ” asked Pierre timidly. 


100 A GENTLEMAN FEOM FRANCE 

“ Is it something good? Do men like it? 
They all like me. So do the women when 
they know me—all but Marie.” 

“ You are a four-flusher,” repeated the 
Killer. “ That ain’t anything good, either. 
You are a liar, a cheat, a pretender, a 
hoax. 

“ You are a cheat. You a War Dog, a 
hero! Wow, wow, wow! I am half a 
mind to shake you up for trying to put 
such a yarn over on me. Don’t do it any 
more, my fine fellow, if you don’t want 
your sleek coat chewed up a bit. I am 
a rough one, I am. I could chew the nose 
off you in just about a minute,” and he 
growled even more savagely. 

‘‘ I didn’t mean to offend you,” whim¬ 
pered Pierre. ‘‘ But I am a War- ** 

“ We won’t say any more about that,” 
growled the old bull. “ You just sit there 







“ You A \yAR Doo, A HKRO! ” — Paf/s 100 















PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 101 

on your tail and watch me while I make 
my supper. I am as hungry as a— a — 
a-” 

But the old bull’s mouth was so full of 
the dirty meat that he could not finish the 
sentence. 

For several minutes Pierre watched him 
and, as his hunger seemed almost unbear¬ 
able, he tried again to eat some of the 
meat. 

But the way in which he worried down a 
bit here and a morsel there quite disgusted 
the Killer. 

“ My eye! ” he growled. “ I should 
think you was a dandy. What did they 
feed you on, anyhow? ” 

“ The very best of steak and raw eggs 
and cake and cream,” whimpered Pierre. 
‘‘ This meat almost makes me vomit.” 

“ Don’t try to pull any more of your lies 



102 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

on me, or I will shake you up. But you 
do look and act like a dandy. I hate 
dandies. Their fine coats always make me 
want to roll them in the mud. 

“ I don’t know why I didn’t you. But 
there is something about you I rather like. 
You look like a thoroughbred. I have 
some pedigree myself. You wouldn’t be¬ 
lieve it to see me now. 

‘‘ But my sire was a blue-ribbon dog at 
the New York bench and my dam could 
chew the ear off any thoroughbred bull 
that ever ran on four legs. She was a 
terror, she was. I take after her. But 
still I have got the pedigree. Mighty 
little good it does me now. I have seen 
better days, my fine fellow. I suppose 
you reminded me of it. That was why I 
spoke to you instead of chewing you up. 
When you are through’ picking about, I 


PIERRE MEETS THE KILLER 103 


will take you for an enterprise that is 
worth while. 

“ Perhaps we may taste warm blood. 
Wow, but I am thirsty for it. If you are 
a War Dog and have smelled gunpowder, 
you wouldn’t be afraid. But you needn’t 
join me if you don’t want to. 

“ You don’t look much like a War Dog. 
I guess you are a four-flusher.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A SORRY ADVENTURE 

Although the dog is the friend and 
ally of man, doing much to guard and pro¬ 
tect his property, yet he occasionally re¬ 
verts to his wolf ancestry and becomes de¬ 
structive. This is true in very rare in¬ 
stances of the faithful sheep dogs. There 
is something about the stupid sheep that 
seems to invite destruction. 

They are so easily frightened and run so 
readily that what often begins as bois¬ 
terous play on the part of the dogs ends as 
a bloody affair. 

Now it happened that poor Pierre had 
fallen in with a Killer- 

Not a sheep dog gone bad, but just a 

natural scallywag among dogs. The 

104 



A SORRY ADVENTURE 105 

enterprise to which he had alluded was 
nothing more or less than a sheep-killing 
expedition. 

It was a beautiful October evening. 
The hunter’s moon was at its full. The 
stars were so thick in the heavens and so 
luminous that it was almost bright as day. 
The air was clear and crisp, and there was 
a tang about it that went to the blood like 
old wine. Both dogs felt it as they trotted 
away to a distant pasture where the sheep 
were kept. In the daytime they fed in a 
large pasture, but each night they came up 
to a smaller pasture, where the lambs 
were kept in the early spring. This small 
lot was well fenced, with wire netting at 
the bottom to keep the lambs from getting 
through. 

As they approached the lot, the old bull 
became wary and they crept forward 


106 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

slowly, keeping close to the ground. But 
even so, the Killer was much more con¬ 
spicuous than was Pierre. The Airedale 
was all excitement, for the Killer had told 
him it was all sorts of fun and had 
promised him that he might kill a sheep for 
himself. 

Now the Killer knew full well that the 
sheep were the farmer’s property. He 
knew that it was wrong to kill them and he 
also knew that it was risky business on 
which he was taking the Airedale. 

But poor Pierre, who was quite ignorant 
on all these points, thought it just a great 
lark. 

Finally they came in sight of the pas¬ 
ture. They crept along in the shadow of 
some bushes until they reached a spot that 
satisfied the Killer. Then they got down 
on their bellies and started to dig under the 


A SORRY ADVENTURE 


107 


wire netting. Half an hour’s work made 
a hole large enough to admit them. The 
Killer crawled under the fence first, and 
Pierre followed. 

It happened that the Killer had been 
upon just such an expedition in this same 
pasture about a week before. He had 
been discovered and had escaped with his 
hide well peppered with bird shot. A 
strict watch had been kept on the sheep 
ever since. Even at the moment when the 
two dogs crawled out from under the fence 
and entered the lot, a man and two boys 
were lying in wait behind the fence on the 
other side of the lot. Two of them had 
shotguns, but one of the boys carried a 
Winchester rifle. 

The Killer threw all precaution to the 
winds once he spied the sheep. Probably 
the thought of warm blood destroyed his 


108 A GENTLEMAN FROM PRANCE 

sense of prudence. He immediately 
started in pursuit of a half-grown lamb. 
It was lucky for Pierre that his dark coat 
made him less conspicuous than his com¬ 
panion, also that he did not at once join in 
the chase. 

The chase had hardly begun when Bang, 
bang, bang! went the guns with ki-yi, ki-yi, 
ki-yi! from the Killer. The boy with the 
rifle had missed him, but the two shotguns 
had filled him with shot. 

“ Ki-yi, ki-yi, ki-yi! It’s the men with 
their guns, run! ” yelped the old bull, 
making for the hole under the fence. 

Pierre was much excited himself, but he 
had seen such sights as this before. He 
had also heard those deafening noises, only 
much louder. It was war. It was like 
the day when he had found the Colonel and 
carried the letter to his mistress. So he 


A SORRY ADVENTURE 109 

was not nearly so much excited as the bull¬ 
dog. 

“ Ki-yi, where is the hole under the 
fence? ” yelped the bull. 

I am blinded. I cannot see. You 
must show me. They will get me.” 

Then the three gTins went bang, bang, 
bang again. This time Pierre himself felt 
the sharp sting of several shot and he knew 
full well what it was that made the Killer 
yelp. Either they were being stung by 
bees or else it was something connected 
with the loud noise that stung their hides 
so. Anyhow, they must get out of this 
lot, or be stung to death. 

“ Here, this way,” sniffed Pierre. 
“ Here is the hole.” 

But he had spoken too late to help 
his companion, for at the same instant 
the Winchester barked again and the 


110 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Killer fell kicking on the ground beside 
Pierre. 

Pierre knew instinctively that the old 
dog was mortally wounded, just as all 
animals know these things. He must save 
himself. He turned to crawl under the 
fence but could not discover the hole. He 
ran this way and that but could not find 
it. He was trapped. 

What should he do? All the time he 
was running desperately about, the bang¬ 
ing was going on. Shot were stinging his 
hide and the Winchester was ripping up 
grass all about him. It was only the fact 
that he ran so continuously that saved him 
from the fate of the old killer. Finally a 
bullet cut a lock of hair from his face and 
he decided to rush the wire fence. He did 
not know whether he could go through it 
or not, but it was the only way. 


A SORRY ADVENTURE 111 

It looked ugly. It would probably tear 
his face, but it was his only chance. So he 
shut his eyes and sprang against it with all 
his might, keeping his head low. 

There was a sensation of his face being 
scratched with a thorn bush, like the one 
he had gotten into when a puppy at the 
chateau. 

The thorns also raked along his back. 
He thought his hide would be torn off 
him. But at last he was through. His 
heart gave a great bound of delight. He 
had escaped. Now he would run for it. 
But he was too sure of himself. His con¬ 
gratulations were too previous. For just 
then the boy with the Winchester got a 
good bead on him and sent a bullet ripping 
through his flank. It was a very bad 
wound, but luckily only a flesh wound. 
Otherwise his story might have ended then 


112 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

and there. Pierre thought at first that he 
could not step. He was faint and sick. 
They had mortally wounded him, just as 
they had the Killer. 

Then the sense of self-preservation as¬ 
serted itself. He must flee. If he stayed 
there, they would surely kill him. So he 
set his teeth, and his splendid fighting 
strength came to his aid. 

His ancestors had all been good fighters, 
and why not he? 

He must flee, but where? It did not 
matter much as long as he ran fast and 
far. So he sped away on three legs, leav¬ 
ing his companion in this desperate night’s 
work dead in the sheep pasture. 

They fired two or three more shots at 
him but finally he disappeared and the 
fusillade ceased. 

But poor Pierre still seemed to hear the 


A SORRY ADVENTURE 113 

deafening sounds long after he had passed 
out of range. The night was full of hor¬ 
rors. The whole world was full of fierce 
men with thunder sticks and they were all 
after him. 

Finally the roadway led through a deep 
wood, and Pierre was very glad. He left 
the road and struck off into the woods. 

The darker it was and the thicker the 
underbrush the better it suited him. Here 
was a place to hide. The sweet green 
woods protected him, just as it has many 
another hunted animal, or even man. 

Finally in the very heart of the woods 
he crawled under the top of a fallen tree to 
rest. He was so weak he could hardly 
stand. His breath came in wheezy gasps. 
He lay very still and tried to sleep. 

But the wound pained him intensely, so 
he sat up and licked it steadily for an hour. 


114 A GENTLEMAN FEOM FRANCE 

Then he discovered that he was very 
thirsty. 

He could hear water running close at 
hand, so he crept cautiously out and 
slaked his thirst. Then he went back to 
his treetop to rest some more. 

For three days Pierre slept and rested 
under the treetop, going often to the little 
stream to slake his thirst. He ate no food, 
only slept and drank cool, refreshing 
water. 

On the fifth day, he came forth from 
hiding. The wound had healed so per¬ 
fectly that it would have troubled any one 
to discover it under his thick coat. He 
limped slightly for a few hours but finally 
even that discomfort disappeared and he 
was his own active self, only prodigiously 
hungry. He at once remembered the bad 
meat where he had met the Killer. He 


A SORRY ADVENTURE 


115 


had no difficulty in finding it and he was 

t 

astonished to discover how good it tasted. 

When he had eaten until he could hold 
no more, he took to the open road. He 
would find his mistress if he had to run his 
legs off. She had been so good to him. 
They had all been good to him. What a 
fool he had been to run away. But in¬ 
stead of finding the actress, he discovered 
some new friends. 


CHAPTER IX 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 

It was Sunday morning at Sunnyside 
Cottage, where lived an author and his 
wife, and they were at breakfast. 

Now the Sunday morning meal at 
Sunnyside is a very leisurely affair, with 
the different dishes sandwiched in between 
fragments from the morning paper. 

They had finished the grapefruit, and 
were sampling the Sunday sermon, when 
there came a timid tat-a-tat-tat at the 
screen door on the front piazza. 

“ I wonder who it is,” inquired the 
author, and to answer the question the 
mistress got up and went to the door. 

There upon the mat sat a sorrowful 

figure. A stump of a tail was slowly and 

116 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 117 

gently thumping the door-mat as though 
feeling its way cautiously. The head was 
downcast, but the mistress might have 
noticed, had she looked sharply, that the 
bright eyes were watching her narrowly. 

The whole attitude was apologetic, as 
though he excused himself for being there 
at that time of day, and looking so be¬ 
draggled. 

“ Good-morning, Mr. Dog,” said the 
mistress cheerily. 

The stump of the tail began thumping 
the mat more quickly and with greater de¬ 
termination, and the bright, quizzical face 
was turned up inquiringly. 

“ Please, lady,” it seemed to be saying, 
“ I am cold and hungry. The world out¬ 
side is a great lonesome place, and it looks 
very inviting inside your house.” 

The mistress read the dog tBought 


118 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

rightly, so she opened the door and asked, 
“Will you come in, Mr. Dog? ” 

Pierre needed no second invitation, and 
slipped inside quickly as though fearing 
she might change her mind when she saw 
the sad condition of his toilet. 

On the threshold of the living-room, he 
stopped doubtfully. 

“ Will you step in and take a chair, Mr, 
Dog? ” inquired the kind lady. 

Without the slightest hesitation, and 
seeming to comprehend what was said per¬ 
fectly, Pierre slipped over the threshold 
and made for the master’s easy-chair. 

He reached this favorite seat with an 
easy bound as though he was used to the 
best chair, and there he sat straight as a 
drum-major, ears cocked, eyes snapping, 
waiting for the next move on this interest¬ 
ing program. 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 119 

The mistress returned to the dining¬ 
room, and without a sign of a smile, said, 
‘‘ There is a gentleman in the sitting-room 
who wishes to see you.” 

The author swallowed a gulp of coffee 
to be primed for any emergency and went 
to the living-room, and there in the best 
chair sat Mr. Dog. 

“ Well, well, this is taking some liber¬ 
ties,” said the master sternly, for Pierre’s 
paws were muddy, and the chair was 
almost new. This was rather too much to 
be endured calmly, even by a lover of dogs. 

If a dog could be described as blushing, 
Pierre blushed, and a look of shame over¬ 
spread his face. 

His whole manner and expression 
seemed to say, “ I know I am very shabby 
this morning, but I am down on my luck. 
You do not think I am a tramp, do you? 


120 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Really, I am used to the very best things. 
I am sorry about my paws.” 

The man smiled in spite of a determina¬ 
tion to be very stern with a tramp who 
took such liberties. The smile did not 
escape the snapping, intelligent eyes. 

Pierre got down from the chair deliber¬ 
ately, and came mincingly towards the 
author, the stub tail wagging feebly, de¬ 
jection and tragic dog despair in every 
motion. 

“ Oh, it isn’t so bad as that, Mr. Dog,” 
said the man. I see you are really a 
gentleman. We all have our ups and 
downs.” 

The Airedale stopped and listened in¬ 
tently to what the man said. He was 
watching for the intonation, to see whether 
it was friendly or not. 

He probably concluded in his own favor. 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 121 

for he began walking slowly about the 
master, sniffing eagerly at his trousers. 

Twice he made the circle, and then he 
looked up into the man’s face with a bright 
relieved expression, and gave two short 
glad barks. 

“ You think I will 3o? ” the man asked. 
Pierre barked twice, which was interpreted 
as “ Why, you will do, perhaps not quite 
up to my real master, but still a rather 
good fellow who knows dogs.” 

Then it was that the man noticed the 
chain about the dog’s neck and the War 
Cross. 

“ What have we here? ” he inquired. 
“ A decorated knight, or a soldier? ” 

He reached for the cross to examine it. 
Pierre backed away, wrinkling his upper 
lip and looking belligerent. 

“ I wouldn’t steal your War Cross, 


122 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

that’s a good fellow,” said the man. “ Let 
me see it.” The Airedale advanced a step. 
The author patted his head, then slowly 
laid his hand upon the cross. The dog 
watched his every movement. 

It was not a trinket, but a real Croix de 
Guerre. Many a brave man had given his 
life to be buried with that cross upon his 
breast. 

“ Guess I had better take it off and keep 
it for you,” the man said. “ You might 
lose it,” and so he started to unclasp the 
chain. Quickly the dog’s jaws closed over 
the wrist and his eyes glazed. A deep 
growl admonished the man. 

“ Oh, if you feel that way about it I will 
not touch it,” he said, and he never tried to 
take the cross from Pierre again while he 
remained at Sunnyside. When the author 
finally heard from Madame how the Aire- 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 123 

dale had gained it and the ColonePs dying 
request, he did not wish to. 

“ Will you walk out and have some 
breakfast? ” inquired the master, leading 
the way to the dining-room. Pierre fol¬ 
lowed meekly, showing by his dainty man¬ 
ners that he was used to the very best 
society. 

He sat on a rug by the man’s chair 
watching, him eat, and from his expression 
he seemed hungry. 

So the man passed him a juicy bit of 
steak, not porterhouse, but the best cut 
from the round. 

He sniffed at it daintily, then looked up 
with a sorrowful expression, as though the 
meat were a great disappointment to 
him. 

“Eat it, you little beggar,” said the 
author rather sharply, for he was not in 


124 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

the habit of having dogs turn up their 
noses at good steak. 

Pierre reached down and licked the meat 
with his dainty tongue, and then partly 
closed his lips upon it, but at once dropped 
the morsel. 

Then he retreated a step or two and sat 
down upon the rug, thumping the floor 
with the stump tail. His expression was 
one of apology. 

“ I am very sorry,” he seemed to be say¬ 
ing, “ I would eat it to accommodate you 
if I could, but really it is quite out of the 
question.” 

“ He must be sick,” said the mistress 

> ^ 

tenderly. 

‘‘ Sick nothing,” snorted the man, “ he 
is an aristocrat. He probably wants 
porterhouse. Well, he will have to wait 
a spell.” 


PIERKE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 125 

‘‘ Come here, you poor dog, and try 
this,” said the mistress, at the same time 
spreading a bun generously with delicious 
new butter. 

The Airedale went around with great 
alacrity, understanding the sympathetic 
tone if not the words. 

“ There, there, you poor hungry dog, 
eat that,” said the kind lady. 

She placed the delicious bun before his 
majesty. 

As a special mark of condescension 
Pierre licked the butter from the bun but 
would not touch the bim itself. 

“Well, well, he is some epicurean; 
won’t touch my good buns.” 

“ Perhaps he would like a plate of hum¬ 
ming-birds’ tongues, or a little ambrosia,” 
the man suggested, ironically. 

Pierre looked at him reproachfully, 


126 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

understanding that he was scornful of his 
dainty manners. 

“ If you had been brought up as I was, 
you would understand,” he seemed to be 
saying. ‘‘ I really can’t help it. I am so 
sorry to hurt your feelings when you are 
so kind.” 

The mistress next brought him a piece 
of cake. He ate off the frosting and 
wagged his stump for more, 

“I guess not,” the man said; ‘‘you 
can’t let him lick all the frosting off the 
cake. He may be some gentleman, but 
we won’t stand for that. I am not 
fussy, but I don’t want to eat the cake 
after him.” 

Pierre looked at the author with an ex¬ 
pression of real sorrow. If they could 
only reach an understanding! 

“ See how sleek his coat is,” said the 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 127 

mistress, all sympathy and concern for 
the starving guest. 

“ It’s probably raw eggs,” the man 
said. “ They always help a dog’s coat, 
but only kings and millionaires can afford 
to feed them.” 

At the word ‘‘ egg,” the Airedale cocked 
his ears and looked up at the author 
sharply. 

“ Is it eggs? ” inquired the man. 

Pierre barked gladly. 

“ I do really believe he is asking for 
eggs,” said the sympathetic lady. 

“ You might try him on one,” suggested 
the man. “ They are only eighty cents a 
dozen.” 

The mistress hurried into tKe pantry 
closely followed by her new friend, that 
seemed perfectly to understand being the 
subject of their conversation. 


128 A GENTLEMAN FKOM FRANCE 

She brought out the egg, and he 
watched her while she broke it, fairly 
quivering with eagerness; and when she 
put it down before him in a decorated 
saucer he licked it up frantically. 

“ Eggs it is,” cried the man, “ .We 
have opened our doors and our hearts to 
an aristocrat, and there is no knowing 
what the cost will be.” 

Three raw eggs Pierre ate for breakfast 
before he was satisfied. 

It did not take the people of Sunnyside 
long to discover that they had been 
adopted by an epicurean of no uncertain 
taste. One after another they tried upon 
him the dishes they had usually fed their 
dogs; but everything that was not costly 
and most extraordinary for a dog was re¬ 
fused. Not rudely nor bluntly, but with 
such grace, and with such consideration 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 129 

for their feelings that it was enough to 
make a dog laugh. 

Often Pierre would take up a bit of 
something they had offered him daintily 
between his lips and stand holding it look¬ 
ing imploringly at them, as much as to say, 
“You see I would eat it if I possibly 
could, but really it is quite out of the ques¬ 
tion.” Then he would finally drop the 
food, and go and lick the mistress’s hands 
with his soft tongue by way of apology. 

The only things they ever discovered 
that he would eat after much experiment¬ 
ing were raw eggs, cream, porterhouse 
steak, macaroons, nabiscos, lady-fingers, 
and the frosting from cake. 

So it will be seen Pierre was a most per¬ 
plexing boarder, and a costly one as well. 

The author would have fits of sternness 
with him, saying that he must eat what 


130 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

other dogs did or starve, and he would 
come to it if he went hungry long enough. 
Then they would skip a meal, but it was 
not for long, for the author would soon 
catch the mistress feeding Pierre eggs on 
the sly, and when he told her it was against 
the rules, she would reply that she could 
not endure seeing a dear dog like that 
waste away. 

For the first day or two the manners of 
the Airedale were a pattern for all dogs. 

He was gentle and quiet and very dainty 
in the house. 

To be sure he alwavs wanted the best 
chair, and twice when he slipped away 
quietly and they looked for him he was 
discovered in the guest-chamber on the 
best bed—a fact that made the mistress 
highly indignant, but her husband ex¬ 
plained to her the dog had divined this was 



PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 131 


the guest-chamber, and he probably con¬ 
sidered himself their guest, as indeed he 
^vas, and they never worked harder to 
please a guest. 

Pierre was very particular about being 
disturbed when in the master’s easy-chair. 
The first time he tried to push him out of it 
the dog growled at him—not that throaty 
disagreeable growl which usually precedes 
a snap, but a deep-chested friendly growl, 
which the man interpreted as a remon¬ 
strance. 

The first time Pierre did it the man took 
another chair, begging his pardon for hav¬ 
ing been so discourteous, but the second 
time the man said to him, “ You are just 
a little bluffer, with juur deep growl,” and 
gave him a sharp slap and invited him to 
get down at once, which he did with a ver}^ 
sorry injured air, his whole mien saying, 


132 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

“ Well, look at that. Who ever heard of 
treating a gentleman so rudely? ” 

It was the second day of his sojourn at 
Sunnyside that the man discovered his 
true nature. The days of tramp life, and 
the hardships that he had endured had 
subdued him, and the quiet, demure ter¬ 
rier that they knew thus far was not the 
real Pierre. 

It had always been the habit of the 
master’s old collie, that he had lost a year 
or two before, to go with him for the mail; 
so when he started out one afternoon he 
whistled for the Airedale. 

That whistle and the invitation to ac¬ 
company the man set off a thousand steel 
springs in the dog, and loosened an energy 
of which his friends had not even dreamed. 
He came after the author like the wind, 
leaping and barking. 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 133 

“ Here, here, go quietly,” he admon¬ 
ished. “ We must be respectable citizens,” 
but he might have as well spoken to the 
wind. He gestured, threatened, scolded, 
and coaxed, but all to no avail. The imp 
of mischief had been set loose in Pierre, 
and the man was perfectly helpless. 

The first thing he discovered on this 
walk was that Pierre was not used to chil¬ 
dren, and every time he saw one he started 
for it frantically, barking, and making a 
great fuss. He evidently considered it 
some new kind of playfellow made for his 
special amusement. 

Although he intended the children no 
harm, yet he went with such seeming 
ferocity towards them, that with one 
accord they took to their heels, yelling with 
fright, and this pleased him prodigiously. 

Time and again angry mothers asked 


134 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

the author if that was his dog, and he 
would reply meekly he was not really his, 
but one that was staying at Sunnyside. 
The master tried to excuse Pierre in each 
instance, pointing to his War Cross and 
saying he was a hero, but he met with lit¬ 
tle success. 

In the course of a short walk he chased 
three groups of children, tipped over a 
perambulator, treed two cats, one of which 
he nearly got, and had a scrap with the 
butcher’s boy, who threw stones at him 
from a safe distance, making him perfectly 
frantic with fury. The author whistled 
and shouted until he was out of breath. 
Finally he disowned Pierre altogether, and 
hurried home trying to throw him off his 
scent. When he entered the front door, 
the Airedale appeared from somewhere 
and slunk in at his heels. 


< 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 135 

The man wa« completely worn out and 
somewhat angry. 

I never’ll take that little imp to walk 
with me again,” he said hotly. The mis¬ 
tress at once took the dog’s part. He 
quickly saw how the land lay and went to 
her with an injured air. 

“You should have controlled him with 
kindness,” she said. “ See how gentle he 
is. You probably spoke harshly to him, 
and ruffled him.” 

“ He may go with you next time,” her 
husband replied. “ I will let you try kind 
persuasion on him.” 

So the next day he went to walk with his 
mistress. They came back in half an hour, 
and she was nearly in tears, and so tired 
out she had to lie down. 

But you must not get a wrong impres¬ 
sion of Pierre from these sorry experi- 


136 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

ences, for there was not a mean thing about 
him. He was so full of dog spirits he did 
not know what to do with them. 

The only way they could get along with 
him at all, was to punish him every day or 
two severely enough to keep his spirits 
down. He was one of those dogs that 
need affliction to keep them within 
bounds. 

The children were such a source of de¬ 
light to him that he would chase every 
child that went by the house. So the 
author finally had to tie him up, although 
it nearlv broke his heart. The children 
avenged themselves when he was tied, by 
yelping at him, and this promptly made 
him furious. 

The master forbade their barking at 
him, but they would do it on the sly, and 
he could not watch them all the time. 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 137 

Pierre finally became so sensitive that if a 
boy pointed a finger at him, he would 
bristle up like a porcupine. One boy 
could even drive him into a fury by merely 
making up a face at him. 

So the author finally tied him behind 
the house where he could not see them. 
Here he dug under a choice grape-vine, 
and tangled himself up a dozen times a 
day. 

The man wore out more shoe-leather 
travelling into the back yard to untangle 
his rope than he did all the rest of the day, 
so he tied Pierre in the shed. But he was 
always into something. 

One day he dug under the house and 
went on a voyage of discovery. He filled 
up the hole after him, and the master 
was obliged to take down a part of the wall 
to get him out. 


138 A GENTLEMAN FEOM FRANCE 

He gnawed things, he tore up things, 
and he made his good friends more trouble 
than all the dogs they had ever possessed, 
and the number had been legion. But 
somehow they forgave him all. 

Some days when he had been more full 
of mischief than usual, the mistress would 
go out at night to feed him raw eggs, and 
cover him up with a warm blanket, and he 
would be so affectionate and gentle that 
she would declare he had reformed, and 
we would see a better-behaved dog on the 
morrow. But on the morrow all his imps 
came back, with reinforcements. 

Yet through all these tribulations with 
him, he was so affectionate, and so gentle¬ 
manly when he had a mind to be, that they 
had never loved a dog more. 

The mistress and the master might have 
gone to premature graves, had not a 


PIEREE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 139 
friend from Meadowdale called, and dis- 

I 

closed Pierre’s identity. 

She had seen the great actress in her 
private car, when she was playing in the 
city, and had there made the acquaintance 
of the Airedale. 

“ Why, what in the world! ” she cried. 
“ Where did you get Madame Bernier’s 
dog? ” 

“ He adopted us,” the author replied, 
and explained briefly. 

“ He ran away when she was playing in 
« 

Meadowdale,” the lady continued. ‘‘ Ma¬ 
dame advertised for him and was nearly 
heart-broken, but they could not find 
him. Pierre, come here, you rascal,” she 
concluded. 

A more delighted dog than he was at 
the mention of his name could not be im¬ 
agined. He fairly hounded into the lady s 


140 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

lap, nearly upsetting her with his exuber¬ 
ance. 

“ He does seem to know his own name,” 
the author said. “ I shall have to write to 
Madame and tell her all about it.” 
Although he had nearly been the death of 
them, a pang shot through the man’s heart 
at the thought of losing him. 

The next day he wrote the letter, and 
slipped it into the letter-box, wondering 
what strange thing it would bring about. 

After the author had mailed his letter 
to Madame, Pierre began to mend his 
ways rapidly. Probably the continual 
dinning of manners and morals into him 
was having effect, for he certainly became 
quite a well-behaved dog, that could on 
occasions even accompany the author to 
walk without disgracing him. 

Also his affection for his new friends 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 141 

seemed to increase with each passing day. 
The truth was, he was growing into their 
hearts and lives, and they were growing 
into his. 

I presume most of my readers have read 
Kipling’s little poem about giving one’s 
heart to a dog to tear. That is what a 
true dog-lover usually does. Not that the 
dog tears his heart intentionally, but there 
are always so many things that may hap¬ 
pen to make your heart ache after you 
have given it fully and unreservedly to a 
dog. 

At the very best, he will grow old and 
blind, and there will come that wretched 
day, when after sleepless nights you resort 
to the chloroform bottle. Then there are 
accidents and a dozen and one things that 
may happen to your pet, even if he does 
not live to a good old age. 


142 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


Finally the letter that they had dreaded 
so long came. Full of foreboding, the 
master tore open the envelope and read as 
follows: 

“ My dear Monsieur, the Poet: 

“ I can never tell you with mere pen 
and paper what joy your letter gave me. 
To think that my dear Pierre is still alive 
and well, and as happy as he could ever be 
without his mistress. 

“ The poor little beggar! What must 
he not have suffered! I never played 
worse in my whole life, not even when I 
was young, than the week following the 
day that I lost him. That stupid Marie! 
I could have wrung her neck with relish, 
but she is a fine servant, and I could not 
spare her. 

“ What hardship my darling must have 
seen before he found his kind friends! 
Think of it. Monsieur, he always had his 
bath and his combing every morning as 
regularly as I did. But he was a rogue. 
Monsieur. That must have been why I 
loved him so. But, thanks to his kind 
friends, I shall soon see him again.”^ 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 143 

Here the author stopped in the reading 
of the letter to blow his nose, and Pierre, 
whom he had let smell the letter, licked 
his hands frantically, as though he sympa¬ 
thized, and would stand by him. 

“ Last June, when I returned to 
France,” the letter continued, “ I left 
Marie in America, to visit friends, and 
also to see if anything turned up concern¬ 
ing Pierre. She is to sail Saturday at 
three p. M. on the Princess Louise from 
New York. Can you meet her at the 
steamer, and bring dear Pierre with you? 
I will cable her, and she will be on the 
watch for you. 

“ I am glad he has not lost his War 
Cross. It was the gift of a brave Colonel 
who was dying on the battle-field. He 
said Pierre must always wear it and for me 
to have it buried with him. 

“ The enclosed check for a thousand 
francs is very small payment for all you 
have done for Pierre. You have, besides, 
my dear poet, my most abundant grati¬ 
tude for all time. 

‘‘ Thanking you again a thousand times, 


144 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

both for myself and Pierre, I am your 
much-indebted friend, 

“ Madame Bernier.” 

The man gasped and rubbed his eyes, 
and then turned to the letter again, and 
read it over carefully to see if he had made 
any mistake. But there it was in black 
and white, as irrevocable as the laws of 
the Medes and Persians. He had got to 
give up his little dog friend. There was 
no other honorable course left to him. 

That night the mistress tearfully tucked 
Pierre for the last time under his blanket 
in the kennel, and they held their last 
good-night confab. 

Pierre was conscious, from the manner 
of his friends, of some impending change. 
He did not know just what it was, but he 
knew that they were depressed and so he 
shared their distress. 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 145 


It was a very demure Airedale that the 
master led on the leash the following 
morning to the depot. While they stood 
on the platform waiting for the train, he 
crowded between the man’s legs, and could 
not seem to get close enough to his 
adopted master. 

They took their place in the smoking- 
car, as the conductor told them parlor- 
cars were not for dogs. What if he had 
seen the car in which Pierre had ridden so 
many thousand miles. But they did not 
care as long as they were together. A 
smoking-car was good enough for the 
man, if he had good company, and he did 
that morning. 

Pierre insisted on sitting next to the 
window so that he could look outside and 
watch the landscape as they rushed along. 
It must have reminded him of old days,— 


146 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

the old days when he sat at the window of 
his mistress’s car, and watched the great 
wide world slip by. 

But the world could not hold him for 
long this morning, and he frequently 
turned to the master and nosed the morn¬ 
ing paper from his hands, and invited him 
to cuddle him, and talk to him. 

Then it was that the author told him the 
full contents of the letter. He looked 
very grave at its conclusion, taking his 
cue from the man. 

Finally the long journey was over and 
they took a taxi at the Grand Central for 
the wharves. They had just time enough 
to catch the boat. 

The author had no difficulty in finding 
Marie, and she recognized him by the dog 
on the leash. 

The master followed her to the palatial 


PIERRE MAKES NEW FRIENDS 147 

French liner, and left her after a few 
minutes on one of the upper decks, keep¬ 
ing a tight hold on the leash. Pierre 
looked very forlorn and anxious, but 
Marie assured the author that he would 
not get away again. She would see to 
that, as her own life would be the forfeit 
if he did. 

The master had her cover the Airedale’s 
head with a handkerchief while he slipped 
quickly away, without any special fare¬ 
well. He had been saying good-bye all 
the way down to New York. 

Five minutes later he stood on the 
wharf watching the tugs work the liner out 
of her slip. He could just distinguish 
Marie on the upper deck where he had left 
her with Pierre. 

This was the last he ever saw of them. 


CHAPTER X 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 

If Marie was glad to see Pierre again, 
Pierre was also glad to see Marie, 
although she had once been his enemy. 
His state of mind was much that of a small 
boy who has run away with the circus. 

The glitter and the glamour of the 
world had called to him and he had an¬ 
swered. But his adventure in the wide, 
wide world had been full of sorrows. His 
friends, especially the great lady who 
adored him, and even Marie, were all pref¬ 
erable to the wide world. 

He had had bis fill of adventure and 
henceforth, or for a while at least, he 
would be content with the lot of a home 
dog. 


148 


PIEKRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 149 


This was the way Pierre thought in his 
dim, dog way, when he thought at all; but 
he was so wide-awake and so filled with the 
passing show that external things claimed 
most of his attention. 

Marie, on the other hand, was highly 
pleased with the turn of events. She was 
not to go home without Madame’s dear 
dog. She would be restored to the great 
lady’s favor, and that meant a great deal 
to her. 

It was an honor to be the maid of the 
greatest actress in the world, and Marie 
appreciated the fact. So both she and 
Pierre were very happy upon that return 
voyage to dear old France. But France 
was still war-torn and grief-stricken, and 
Madame was still playing daily, and often 
twice a day, to gain gold for the land she 
loved. 


150 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Pierre’s conduct on the boat was so 
much better than anything that Marie had 
ever known before that she was quite in 
love with him herself before the ship made 
Havre. 

It was a proud moment for Marie when 
she walked into Madame’s dressing- 
room with Pierre, who looked just as 
jaunty and cock-sure of himself as he had 
the morning he ran away, although the 
world had done much to subdue his spirits. 

Madame fell uiDon him as though he had 
been a long-lost child and caught him up 
just as though he had not been forty 
pounds of bone and muscle, while Pierre 
showered her face with kisses and jumped 
about and barked so loudly that the man¬ 
ager came in to see what was the matter. 
The great actress was so overjoyed and 
taken up with her long-lost darling that 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 151 

the manager finally had to remind her that 
her cue would soon be called. 

So it was into the same old touch-and- 
go world that Pierre had returned. If 
the soldiers could fight by day and by 
night upon the reeking soil of France, 
Madame could also fight for her country 
upon the stage. So it was a tired, hard- 
worked woman who again took Pierre to 
her heart and talked to him in the small 
hours of the morning after the theatre 
lights had gone out and the last curtain 
had fallen. 

But just a week to a day after Pierre 
set foot in France the colors again called 
him and Madame could not refuse her 
country. 

General Gerundo, an old friend, was 
calling on her at the theatre. There was 
an hour before the curtain went up, and 


152 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

they were chatting together over some 
wine and cakes. 

Madame had just finished telling the 
general of Pierre, of his War Cross and his 
latest escapade in America, when Pierre 
himself trotted in from the stage where he 
had been romping with the stage hands. 

The general looked at the Airedale 
admiringly as he came and stood upon his 
hind legs and laid his head in Madame’s 
lap, ready for his usual complement of 
caresses. 

“Yes,” said the great man after a 
silence, during which he watched the 
actress curiously. “ He is a fine dog. The 
handsomest Airedale I ever saw. But it 
is a pity that so good a soldier is not again 
fighting. We have great need of such 
dogs in the Argonne on the ammunition- 
carts. Much of the country is too rough 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 153 


for machines or horses. I think he could 
again do valiant service for France.” 

At the words Madame uttered a half- 
suppressed cry, of which she was ashamed. 
But she was very tired and heartsick. 
The tragedy of the war was heavy upon 
her. The return of Pierre had given her 
a respite from this haunting specter of 
war. In his love and playfulness she had 
found surcease from her own heartache, 
and here the general was suggesting that 
she again give him up to his country. 

She looked up at the gray-bearded little 
man with the blue uniform. The man 
who slept either in his automobile, or even 
on horseback, anywhere but in bed. The 
man who had given so much for France. 
She noted the tired look in his eyes and 
was ashamed of her own weakness. 

“ Forgive me, General,” she said. 


154 A GENTLEMAN FKOM PRANCE 


“You see I have not had Pierre for 

I 

months and he is such a comfort to me. 
Your proposal took me unawares. I was 
off my guard. I am tired to-night, 
General.” 

“ We are all tired,” said the general, 
“ but better days are ahead if we en¬ 
dure, and we must. But what do you say 
about the dog? ” 

Madame looked straight into the bright, 
dancing eyes of Pierre and gently caressed 
his soft ears. Life danced and sparkled 
in his eyes. It radiated from his splendid 
body. He tingled and glowed with it. 
He was sentient, vital, and there was no 
fear in his splendid eyes. 

Should she again let him go into the 
inferno of war? She knew he was not 
afraid. She doubted very much if he 
would quail, even if he knew that death 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 155 

awaited him out on the battle-fields of 
France. Should she let him go? But it 
was for France. They all must make 
sacrifices. Finally she looked up at the 
general and her eyes were filled with tears. 
“ You may have him,” she said; “ we all 
follow the flag.” 

When the head dog-musher saw PieiTe 
he shook his head. 

“ He is much too light,” he said. ‘‘We 
want heavier dogs, dogs that can pull 
heavy loads.” 

The dog-musher was a tall, muscular 
young Scotchman, who had come over to 
France from Alaska to help in training 
the dogs which the French government 
had purchased for drawing the ammuni¬ 
tion-carts in the rough country. The 
Scotchman had brought with him a hun¬ 
dred of the finest dogs that he could find in 


156 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Alaska, most of them winners in the great 
Alaskan sweepstake races, so he knew 
good dogs when he saw them. 

Even though he had condemned Pierre 
as too light, still he kept on looking at him. 
In some strange way the Airedale fasci¬ 
nated the man. His eyes were so bright, 
his ears so erect, his expression so intelli¬ 
gent. The Scotchman was even obliged 
to admit to himself that he had never seen 
so much dog in so small compass. 

‘‘ But I hate to let him go,” he said at 
length, during which time he had been 
stud3dng Pierre with his all-seeing gray 
eyes. 

“We do need brains in several of our 
teams. I would like just such a dog if he 
was twenty pounds heavier.” 

“ Why not let him lead and pull as 
much as he can? ” inquired the lieutenant. 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 157 

“ As you say, Captain, we do need brains 
in our lead-dogs. We also need dogs that 
are not afraid, and this terrier looks as 
though he would not be afraid of the devil 
himself.” 

“ That’s so,” said the captain. ‘‘We 
will keep him.” 

So Pierre again entered the service of 
the French government and was at once 
put to work. That very day the lieu¬ 
tenant taught him “ Gee ” and “ Haw ” 
and to “ mush.” 

The lieutenant was used to clever dogs, 
but Pierre surprised him. “ Why, this 
Airedale fairly takes the words out of your 
mouth. He will make a fine lead-dog,” 
he reported to the captain. 

Pierre thought it great fun to trot up 
and down helping pull the queer cart. To 
his eager mind and willing muscles it was 


158 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

just another fine play, something that men 
wanted him to do. The men were also to 
his liking, for they were the soldier-men. 
Men that a dog could worship. Men like 
Jean and the Colonel. Men whose will 
was law. Men whose will gripped you like 
a great force that must be obeyed. This 
was the sort of life Pierre liked, for he was 
masterly himself. He could even give up 
his pampered taste and take the fare as he 
found it, as the soldiers did. 

He had not troubled his good friends, 
the author and his wife in America, be¬ 
cause he was really bad. He was just so 
full of energy that he had to work it off 
in some way or blow up. There was no 
such danger in this new life, for they 
worked him from dawn to dark. 

Finally, after three or four weeks Pierre 
was perfected and put at the head of a 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 159 

team of six dogs. It was a very proud 
morning for him when he was harnessed 
and put at the lead position. He was to 
go ahead. He was to lead off. All the 
rest would follow him. Yes, that was fine. 
The soldier-men depended on him. He 
was to work for them. 

Well, he would work until he dropped 
and then he would get up and go on again. 
But it was a great responsibility. He had 
to listen very carefully and notice whether 
the man with the long whip said “ Gee ” 
or “ Haw.” If he made a mistake, it 
would take the whole team in the wrong 
way. Then he must obey “ Mush,” and 
if his teammates did not pull he would 
growl at them. 

True, he was the smallest dog in the 
team. Any one of the tall, lean huskies 
behind him could have eaten him up. But 


160 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Pierre did not know this, so he was safe 
in his ignorance. 

The cart was dragged for miles and 
miles on the broad, hard road. 

Finally they came to some woods. Be¬ 
yond the woods the sky was cloudy and 
the clouds were filled with bright light¬ 
ning, which continually played against the 
dark background. It brought back strange 
memories to Pierre. All the other dogs 
thought it just a hard thunderstorm, but 
Pierre remembered that fearful day when 
he had seen just such a storm gather be¬ 
yond the great river. He had seen such 
lightning and heard just such thunder on 
that day when he had gone to look for the 
Colonel amid the terrors of the mighty 
storm. He could even smell the same 
acidy fumes he had smelled that day. 
What a strange day it had been with the 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 161 

men all sleeping on the ground in every 
thicket and by the roadside! Some of 
them had been having bad dreams, for they 
groaned and sighed, while the ground was 
covered with blood. 

Yes, this thing that they were travelling 
towards with the heavy cart was just such 
another storm as that. 

Occasionally as they advanced and the 
thunder grew heavier, Pierre would look 
back over his shoulder at the captain who 
was driving the team. Then the soldier 
would shout at him, “ All right, little sol¬ 
dier, mush.” Some of his teammates 
whimpered and wanted to go back but 
Pierre always kept his nose towards the 
mighty storm while the captain urged the 
fearful ones on with both whip and voice. 
But Pierre himself was not afraid. He 
was just bewildered. 


162 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

He would mush, mush, and mush, if the 
captain said so until they were at the very 
heart of the storm and the mighty peals 
of thunder were rolling continually and 
the terrible bolts of lightning were ripping 
up the trees and the rocks all about them. 

As they journeyed farther into the 
woods and farther towards the great 
storm, the going became more difficult. 
They floundered down into deep gulches 
where the pines and the poplars were green 
and cool. Sometimes there was a little 
brook at the bottom of the gulch and if 
there was time the captain would let the 
dogs stop to drink. 

Then they would climb laboriously over 
a rough hill and here they were sometimes 
spied by the sharpshooters and they had 
to hurry, for the bullets would soon be 
spitting all about them. But this was the 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 163 

general character of the country, deep 
gulch and then a hill. And as they jour¬ 
neyed towards the storm, they often came 
to trees that had their tops broken off and 
lying across the rough roadway, or per¬ 
haps a whole tree was in the way. Then 
the men would cut it away with their axes, 
or lift the cart over it after they had 
partly unloaded it. But the men made all 
possible haste. If they were delayed in 
this way, they fussed and fumed so that 
Pierre knew that some one wanted them 
to come quick. So as soon as they were 
free he would tug and strain at his harness 
and whine to the other dogs to come on, 
even before the man had given the word. 

“Willing little chap,” remarked the 
lieutenant to the captain. “ We certainly 
made no mistake when we took him on. 
He is worth any two huskies we have got. 


164 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

He’s going to distinguish himself before 
we get out of this hell, or my name ain’t 
McDougaL” 

“ Perhaps he will,” said the captain. “ I 
only hope he won’t extinguish himself. He 
is almost too willing. I never saw a dog 
before so utterly devoid of fear.” 

On the last hilltop before they reached 
the great storm, the enemy got Juneau 
Pete, the husky next to Pierre. He was 
shot through the lungs and blew blood 
from his nostrils in bright jets. The 
captain saw that he was done for and shot 
him with his revolver. 

The men lost no time in closing up the 
gap in the team and rushing the cart into 
the next gulch, for the bullets were spitting 
all about them. Even in the gulch they 
were almost as much beleaguered, for the 
enemy began throwing shrapnel and shells 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 165 
into the depression. They had noted that 
it was a cart carrying ammunition to a 
much-harassed portion of the army, so 
determined to cut it off if possible. 

Shrapnel fell like hailstones in among 
the trees. Ij eaves and twigs came down in 
showers, and often a large limb was lopped 
off. But the worst execution came when 
a great shell landed fairly in the gulch 
sending treetops and turf and dust and 
stones in every direction. It fell so near 
that the two men were knocked down bv 
the concussion. But the captain was soon 
on his feet, quieting the dogs. 

He seemed to know that Pierre was the 
dominant spirit of the team, so he told him 
not to get scared and they would soon be 
out of danger. 

Pierre listened very carefully, for he 
wanted to do just what the man wanted 


166 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

him to do, because he was the lead-dog. 
All the other dogs followed him. 

Finally they untangled the cart and 
drew it out into more open country and 
then they came to their own men, who 
greeted them with three cheers. The am¬ 
munition they had brought would hold the 
important position another day, so they 
were very glad to see the two men and 
Pierre and his dog team. 

They unloaded the cart at once. After 
supper when it was as dark as it would be 
that night they started back to headquar¬ 
ters for more ammunition. Going back 
they had only the darkness to contend 
with, but that was bad enough. 

Sometimes they would lose the rough 
road in the deep gulches and flounder 
about for half an hour before they found 
it again. Or, perhaps a large tree would 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 167 

be across the road; then they would lift the 
cart over it, and that also took time. Both 
men and dogs were glad when daylight 
came and they were well out of range of 
even the large guns. 

But there was no rest for them, for they 
were no sooner out of range of the enemy 
than they came upon several truck-loads 
of ammunition which had been brought up 
during the night. So it was to be their 
task just to carry ammunition through the 
deep gulches and over the high hills where 
the bullets and the shrapnel whined and 
whistled with never an hour to stop and 
rest. The trucks could bring it to within 
range, but the dog teams must do the rest. 
The terrible, nerve-racking, heart-break¬ 
ing work must be left to the dogs and the 
two men. But these were not all who were 
to carry ammunition through this inferno. 


168 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


for several other dog teams soon came up, 
and presently they were going back and 
forth like faithful shuttles between the 
beleaguered army and its source of am¬ 
munition. 

But the personnel of the teams was con¬ 
stantly changing. Hardly a trip was 
made but that some poor dog was left be¬ 
hind dead. 

For if they were too badly wounded to 
stay in the team they were shot. This was 
the best way in such a dreadful place. 

Nor were the dogs the only part of the 
outfit to suffer. The drivers were also 
often wounded or killed. If they were 
wounded, Pierre would see two men carry¬ 
ing them out through the dark tangle of 
the woods on a stretcher. Often Pierre 
was terribly thirsty and there was no 
water to be had. The little streams where 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 169 

they had first slaked their thirst had be¬ 
come choked with mud and dirt. Rocks 
and trees were piled in their beds. 

Often the poor dogs eagerly lapped 
water that was thick with mud, while their 
drivers patted out little places in the mud 
and let the water settle in it before they 
could drink. Even so, the water was 
often red with blood. As the days wore 
on, the heat became intense and this made 
the thirst doubly hard to bear. One of the 
huskies in Pierre's team went mad in the 
harness and snapped at the dogs nearest 
him. The captain sprang to the rescue of 
the rest of the team and shot the afflicted 
dog. 

“ I don’t blame him, Captain,” said the 
lieutenant. ‘‘ I am almost ready to go 
mad myself.” 

The din of the battle was now continu- 


170 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

ous. But the dogs had become used to it 
so they did not mind the noise. The stench 
of decaying bodies, of dead men and horses 
and dogs filled the air. 

Sometimes they did not have time to 
bury the dead and often they could not 
find them in the tangle of trees and debris 
of rocks and sod, so it was altogether a 
hell on earth in which Pierre and his dog 
team labored. 

But the going over the hills and through 
the deep gulches as time passed became 
more difficult, and they lost more dogs and 
men each day than they had the day be¬ 
fore. 

Finally, one terrible day when the heat 
had been even more unbearable than usual 
and they had been bombarded continually 
with shrapnel and shell so that they had 
barely reached the army, the enemy laid 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 171 

down a continuous barrage between the 
army and its supply of ammunition. 

‘‘ Looks to me as though we were 
prisoners/' said the captain to his lieu¬ 
tenant. 

“ Yes," said the general, who happened 
to be standing near. “.We shall all be 
prisoners unless we can get word back to 
headquarters, and they send up a relief 
column. We can’t hold out another day. 
We must be relieved at once." 

The captain looked at him sharply. He 
had not imagined that he had spoken so 
truly. But the general’s face was very 
grave. “ Is it so bad as that? ” the cap¬ 
tain asked. 

“Yes," replied the general. “It is 
much worse than you can imagine. Why, 
in the woods yonder are men who are go¬ 
ing delirious for want of water and food 


172 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

and our ammunition will barely hold out 
to-morrow.” 

“ Where are your carrier pigeons ? ” 

“ Most of them are dead. They were 
shot while flying back to headquarters. 
What we have left are too nearly dead of 
thirst to lift a wing. I tell you our plight 
is desperate. You know the trail back to 
headquarters better than any one else. 
You have been hauling ammunition over 
it for days. Can any human thing live 
long enough in that inferno to get a mes¬ 
sage back to headquarters? ” 

The captain looked back along the way 
that he and his dog team had traversed so 
many times in the past three weeks, but it 
looked like the very mouth of hell. The 
trees that had shielded and befriended 
them in the past were swaying and bend¬ 
ing and breaking under the barrage. The 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 173 

air was filled with flying debris. The hill¬ 
tops he knew would be even harder to cross 
than these infernos of the woods. The 
chance of getting through looked hope¬ 
less. 

“ I am afraid it would be a sure-death 
journey, General,” he said at last. “ I 
wouldn’t expect to last to get across the 
first gulch, General.” 

“ But some one must go,” cried the gen¬ 
eral excitedly. “ The army is at stake.” 

The captain looked down at his dog 
team and sighed. There were but four in 
the team. 

They had left thi^ee others dead in the 
last gulch. And it was now ten times as 
bad as it had been when they had come 
through half an hour before. 

The three huskies lay as though dead, 
their heads between their paws, limp and 


174 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

lifeless. The trip had taken the last 
particle of life and go out of them. But 
not so Pierre. All the dogs with whom 
he had drawn the first load of ammunition 
were dead, but Pierre was still in the lead 
position. Twice he had been grazed by 
bullets but they had done him no harm. 
He was still alert, eager, and full of vi¬ 
tality, and ready to do the bidding of his 
gods, the soldier-men. 

As the captain looked down at him he 
grinned back and the man heard his stump 
of a tail thumping on the sod. Here was 
a little soldier who never would say die 
until the Boche got him for good. 

At the sight of the dog, so alert, so 
eager, so splendid in his courage and en¬ 
durance, a lump filled the captain’s throat. 
He was just a dog, but he was great. He 
was every inch a soldier. 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 175 

I 

Then a bright thought flashed through 
the mind of the man. They could send 
Pierre. He had gone over the trail every 
day for the past three weeks. He knew 
he could make him understand. He was 
such an intelligent little chap. He would 
not be afraid. A man would be afraid and 
with reason, but not Pierre. The captain 
read that in his fearless, eager eyes, which 
looked up in his face so brightly. They 
were so full of life, of the joy of living. 
Should he recommend sending him? It 
was a sure-death journey. He had just 
told the general so himself, but some one 
must go and Pierre was willing. The cap¬ 
tain read that in his face. That hairy, 
alert, intelligent face. 

So the captain turned to the command¬ 
ing officer. “ Get your message ready. 
General, I have a messenger. He will 


176 A GENTLEMAN PROM FRANCE 

take it through if any one can. He is the 
one for a tight place.’’ 

“ Who is he? ” asked the general in sur¬ 
prise. For it astonished him to have a 
messenger appear so suddenly from no¬ 
where to take a message at such risk. 

For answer the captain stooped down 
and patted Pierre’s head. But he could 
not speak, for a great lump was in his 
throat. Tears were coursing down his 
rough, sun-tanned, powder-stained face. 
Tears of which he was not ashamed. 

He and Pierre were all there was left 
of the original outfit, and he had come to 
love the dog as his brother. The lieuten¬ 
ant had “ gone west ” the day before. 

“ yVho is it? ” inquired the general 
again, thinking the captain had not heard 
him. 

“ It’s this dog,” replied the captain be- 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 177 

tween gulps. “He would go into the 
mouth of a cannon if I told him to, even 
though he knew he would be blown to 
pieces. Get your message ready, Gen¬ 
eral.” 

The general took a note-book from his 
pocket and began writing while the cap¬ 
tain unbuckled the harness and sat down 
upon the ground and put his arms about 
the dog’s neck and talked to him in a low 
voice. 

“ You’ve got to go back, little soldier.” 
He put his hand on the dog’s collar and 
pointed back along the trail they had come. 

“ Mush, mush. You have got to mush.” 

Pierre looked up into the captain’s face 
and whined eagerly and tugged at his 
collar. 

“ It’s a terrible trip. You must go 
alone. I can’t go with you. You must 


178 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

mush.” Again the captain pointed along 
the woodland trail, the trail that the dog 
knew so well. 

Once more Pierre whined in eagerness 
and tugged at his collar. 

“All right,” said the captain. “ I knew 
you would understand.” 

Presently the message was ready and 
the captain placed it in an oilskin tube 
made for the purpose and concealed it 
under the dog’s collar. He smoothed it 
out carefully and then let out the collar 
one hole. He would need all the breath 
that nature could give him on this desper¬ 
ate journey and the captain did not want 
him choked by a tight collar. 

Then the soldier very tenderly kissed 
the dog on the top of his head while Pierre 
showered the man’s face with dog kisses. 

“ I am hating to send you, little soldier,” 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 179 

he said thickly, “but the general says, 
‘ Go,’ and we all mush when he says the 
word. I will be praying for you all the 
way. I guess He looks out for dogs as 
well as men when they are doing their 
duty.” 

Then he turned Pierre’s head towards 
the woods and pointed along the devas¬ 
tated wagon trail and cried, “ Mush! ” 
Thus far he had spoken quietly to the dog, 
but this command cut the air like the crack 
of a rifle. At the familiar word Pierre 
started as though he had been struck 
by a whip, and tugged at his collar and 
whined. 

Then the captain cried, “ Mush! ” again 
in that peremptory voice, which to the 
willing dog was like “ Charge ” to the 
willing soldier. 

As the man’s hand let go the dog’s col- 


180 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

lar, the Airedale galloped briskly across 
the open field towards the woods. 

But almost immediately the sharp¬ 
shooters in the tall trees to the east and 
the west saw him and divined that he was 
going back for help and the bullets began 
spitting all about him until the spurts of 
sand looked like rain falling upon the sur¬ 
face of a placid lake. Then they opened 
up with two rapid-fire guns and the cap¬ 
tain groaned aloud. “ The poor little 
chap, the poor little chap, they will get 
him before he even reaches the woods.” 

But worse things were still to come, for 
from away back in the woods somewhere a 
great shell mounted high in air, making a 
beautiful curve, and fell in the open field 
within fiftv feet of PieiTe. 

The dog stopped and looked at it un¬ 
certain, and then back at the captain. He 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 181 

was not afraid, but he was bewildered, and 
he looked back for further orders. 

The captain pointed towards the woods, 
and cried at the top of his voice: 

“ Mush, Pierre, mush! ” And without 
the slightest hesitation the dog turned his 
head towards the gulch and galloped for¬ 
ward. 

But he had barely gone fifty feet when 
there was a puff of smoke from the shell 
and then a great cloud of dust and sod 
which lifted Pierre on its outer edge and 
sent him rolling over and over down the 
slope towards the gulch. 

The captain shaded his eyes to discover 
if he was killed, but after a few seconds, 
to his great joy, he saw the dog get slowly 
up and shake himself, and with one look 
backwards towards his friends trot away 
into the thicket. 


182 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

Then the iron-nei*ved soldier sat down 
on the grass and, clasping his hands over 
his knees, sat for a long time rocking back 
and forth and praying under his breath. 

“ God, take care of the little feller,” he 
implored. “ He’s only a dog, but he’s got 
a heart of gold and he’s a soldier every 
inch of him. God, cover him with your 
feathers, just as it says in the Good Book. 
He is doin’ it for us all. He’s done what 
few men in this division would care to do. 
God, take care of him. Keep the great 
shells off him. Don’t let him be afraid. 
I know he won’t be, but he’s just a dog, 
God; and it’s hell out there in those woods. 

“ God, show him the way. It’s dark and 
the noise is terrible. God, keep the bullets 
away from him. He trusts me and I sent 
him, and if He got killed I’d feel I killed 
him, so keep him all the way, God.” 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 183 

But the captain was not the only man in 
the beleaguered division who was praying 
for Pierre that night. The general had 
told his orderlies of the messenger and how 
bravely he had crossed the open grounds 
to the woods, and the news had spread like 
wild fire. So hundreds of thirst-crazed 
men were saying over and over, “ O God, 
keep the poor dog safe to-night. Help 
him to get through.” 

Four hours after the captain had seen 
Pierre disappear in the woods at the edge 
of the gulch his straining eyes beheld a 
bright streak on the southern horizon. It 
was a red rocket, and in another second it 
was followed by a blue one and then a 
green light flared in the heavens. 

“God be praised!” cried the captain, 
jumping to his feet and running about 
wildly. “The signal, the signal! The 


184 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

little soldier has made it. The division is 
safe! ” 

But the captain’s were not the only eyes 
which had observed the signal lights, for 
hundreds of straining eyes in the division 
saw the lights and new hope sprang up in 
breasts where blank despair had reigned 
supreme a moment before. 

And this was what had caused the bright 
lights on the southern horizon which had 
put new hope into the lives of the men. 

The sentry at headquarters had been 
pacing up and down as usual before the 
general’s tent when he noticed a dog com¬ 
ing towards him. He was acting rather 
strangely, for he bumped against tents and 
wagons and anything that happened to be 
in his way. Yet he continued to advance, 
seeming to go by scent. When he came 
close to him, he saw that it was Pierre, 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 185 

Captain McClure’s lead-dog that had done 
such fine work on the ammunition-cart. 

The Airedale was a prime favorite with 
the men, and known to many of the sol¬ 
diers, who recognized a good soldier when 
they saw one. 

So the sentry whistled to the dog and 
called him by name. 

At the familiar sound, the dog seemed 
to be transformed from a dejected, for¬ 
lorn-looking canine to a joyous, confident 
dog, although he continued to gi’ope his 
way towards the sentry. 

“ Why, good heavens, little chap. What 
is the matter? ” inquired the soldier, as 
Pierre approached him and laid his face 
against the man’s leg. 

Then the man noted for the first time 
that the dog was going on three legs and, 
lifting up his nose, he discovered that his 


186 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

eyes were closed and his face was black 
with powder smoke, 

“Why, Pierre! What is it? Where 
have you been? ” 

The dog whimpered and crowded 
against the man’s legs as though he would 
get closer to him. Then the sentry chanced 
to run his hand under the dog’s collar and 
discovered the tube, and the dog’s plight 
and his eagerness were made plain to him. 
In another minute he was running towards 
the general’s tent, with Pierre in his arms. 

Five minutes later the general was 
poring over the message from the belea¬ 
guered division and this was what he read: 

“ We are cut off. Will have to sur¬ 
render in twenty-four hours. Can you 
rush help to us? ” 

Even in this great exigency, the general 
ordered Pierre turned over to the best sur- 


PIERRE AGAIN SMELLS POWDER 187 


geon in the camp for immediate attention. 
He had a broken fore-leg, and was tem¬ 
porarily blinded. But, due to his efforts 
for his friends, in another hour ten thou¬ 
sand men were in motion, going to rescue 
the lost division. 


CHAPTER XI 


AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 

It was a very great relief to Pierre’s 
friends, and they were legion after his 
great exploit, when the surgeon pro¬ 
nounced his blindness only temporary. 
His broken leg would take weeks to mend, 
but he would see as well as ever in a few 
days. So there was great rejoicing in the 
sector and through the ranks of the lost 

division, which was not to be lost after all, 

\ 

to know that their brave little dog hero 

would soon be as fit as ever. 

The surgeon each day washed Pierre’s 

eyelids, and sometimes even turned them 

wrong side out, that he might better 

cleanse them and so help on their healing. 

188 


AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 189 

For a week Pierre had to wear a muzzle 
and this he at first thought a disgrace. 
But the surgeon was a lover of dogs, and 
he finally explained to the terrier that the 
muzzle was to keep him from tearing off 
his splint on the broken leg. 

Finally the surgeon so covered the splint 
with plaster of paris that it could not be 
pulled away and Pierre was relieved of 
the hateful muzzle. 

As the days passed he and the surgeon 
became the best of friends. Each morn¬ 
ing when the doctor made his round of the 
hospital Pierre would trot behind him and 
stop at each bedside while the doctor at¬ 
tended to the patient. 

There was no soldier in the hospital who 
was not proud to shake the paw of their 
comrade. Few of them had done as much 
for France. 


190 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


So it happened that Pierre’s name was 
upon all lips in that sector of the army. 

He also occupied much space in the 
French newspapers for several days. For 
an enterprising correspondent who was 
with the division heard the story and wrote 
it out in full. He also secured a photo of 
the Airedale, showing his bandaged paw 
and partly closed eyes, and his newspaper 
used the story as one of its important fea¬ 
tures the following morning. Other 
papers were quick to copy so good a story 
as this was. 

So it happened that the great actress 
one morning over her coffee was amazed 
to see Pierre’s quizzical face grinning at 
her from the front page of her morning 
paper. With tears in her eyes and a great 
lump in her throat she read the account of 
her dear dog’s bravery. 


AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 191 


When she had finished reading it to her¬ 
self, she summoned all her servants and 
read the story to them. 

Yet she was not content with the news¬ 
paper account of Pierre’s rapid recovery, 
but telegraphed the surgeon in charge for 
all particulars. She was rather disap¬ 
pointed to receive a brief telegram which 
read, “ You shall have all particulars to¬ 
morrow. In the meantime, patience.” 

Pierre was rather surprised on the fol¬ 
lowing morning when he was not allowed 
to follow the surgeon over the hospital, but 
instead was taken into the office where 
there was much excitement. The actress’s 
old friend General Gerundo was there, 
and several of his staff were with him. 

He shook Pierre’s well paw most cor¬ 
dially and the terrier wagged his apprecia¬ 
tion. Then he was placed on the table in 


192 A GENTLEMAN PROM FRANCE 

the centre of the group and all gathered 
around and shook his paw just as though 
he had been the President of France. 
Finally the general stood before Pierre 
and read from a paper which he held in his 
hand. 

Pierre knew the soldier was talking to 
him, or that the reading had something to 
do about him, but of course he did not 
know just what. So he tried to look very 
knowing and listened just as intently as 
he used to for “ Gee ” and “ Haw.” When 
the soldier had finished reading, all the 
men clapped their hands and Pierre felt 
that something was expected of him, so he 
barked loudly twice and wagged his tail a 
great deal. All of which seemed to please 
the men immensely. 

When Pierre was finally lifted down 
from the table he was much relieved, for 



The general stood before Pierre and read from a paper, 

Pape 192. 














AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 193 

this was really more embarrassing than 
a battle. 

Then an orderly came in and the men 
took leave of Pierre with much ceremony 
and the orderly lifted him in his arms and 
carried him out to a waiting automobile. 

“ Our little soldier is going home to the 
great actress,” explained the general to his 
staff. “ The actress is ill. She has been 
playing daily ever since the war began. 
She is another good soldier. She loves the 
dog just as though he were a child, and we 
are sending him home to cure her. She 
has already made sacrifices enough for 
France and so has Pierre. It will be a 
happy evening at the chateau on the Loire 
to-nighf or I don’t know Madame. 

‘‘ I only hope Pierre won’t jump out of 
the car and break his other legs before they 
arrive. He is such a bundle of energy. 


194 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


Pierre had always been fond of automo- 
biling, especially when he could sit upon 
the front seat and watch the passing show 
through the window. As soon as he was 
lifted into the machine he indicated his 
preference by taking the seat next the win¬ 
dow and sitting perfectly erect just like a 
drum-major. Very little that was worth 
while escaped his sharp eyes. He was 
interested to see all the other dogs by 
the roadway, and especially those who were 
riding in machines. Occasionally he would 
look up at the orderly to see if he noticed 
the other dog, or the cat which really ought 
to be chased, only they were in such a 
hurry. They reached Paris about noon 
and after stopping for dinner were off 
again. 

No one had told Pierre he was going 
home, or that he was soon to see his mis- 


AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 195 

tress. Yet he knew it just as well as 
though they had told him. He knew the 
direction in which they were travelling and 
perhaps his loving dog heart was singing 
home, or more likely it was just his dog 
instinct, which often puts man’s knowl¬ 
edge to shame. 

In the meantime the great actress was 
resting in her wonderful boudoir with 
beauty and luxury all around her. Yet 
she was not happy. She had temporarily 
broken down and could no longer do her 
part for France. She made no allowances 
for herself. She did not say that she was 
nearly seventy, and should be resting by 
rights. For her heart and soul were made 
of stern stuff, and she felt the call of duty 
just as strongly as she ever had. 

She was really lonely and wanted some¬ 
body to love. Something or somebody 


196 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

that would cuddle up to her generous 
breast and take the ache out of her heart. 
She had not said so to any one, but she 
wanted Pierre. She could cuddle and 
talk to him, and he would not talk back. 
She could love with all the passion of her 
great heart and Pierre would love back 
and shower her face with kisses, and they 
could have such a good time if he were 
only there. He had done his part in this 
horrible old war. They ought to let him 
come home. She would telegraph the 
general that minute, that she must have 
Pierre back. She reached out her hand to 
press the button, but stopped in the move¬ 
ment, for an automobile horn had honked 
in the yard. Then Madame’s heart 
almost stopped beating, for she heard 
Pierre’s bark. It was so eager, so joyous, 
and so glad that there was no mistaking it. 


AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 197 

The actress now pressed the button 
frantically and the bell buzzed away as 
though possessed. But all the servants 
knew what she wanted and did not wait 
for orders. Instead the orderly walked 
straight into Madame’s beautiful boudoir 
without waiting to be announced, and 
Pierre, the hero of the lost division, was in 
his arms. Hastily he set the struggling 
dog down on the couch beside Madame, 
and then went softly out of the room. He 
understood. 

For half an hour they were left entirely 
alone, while the servants tiptoed about 
waiting to be summoned to the great 
lady’s presence, and finally the summons 
came. 

When they entered rather fearfully they 
found the actress sitting erect on her 
couch. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks 


198 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 

were flushed, and her voice was vibrant 
with joy. 

“ Marie, bring my best gown,” she cried 
joyously. “ I am well. Doctor Pierre 
has cured me. I am going to give a fete 
in his honor to-night. But first summon 
all my servants. I want you to hear this 
letter from General Gerundo. It is a 
great honor that has come to my humble 
chateau this day. It has brought great 
happiness to me.” 

When the servants were all finally as¬ 
sembled, Madame cuddled Pierre up 
under her arm, next to her heart and read 
in a clear beautiful voice. The same 
wonderful voice that had thrilled millions 
on both continents: 

‘‘ Madame, the great actress, adored by 
all Frenchmen and loved by the world. I 
greet you to-day with joy and thanks- 


AN HONORABLE DISCHARGE 199 

giving. It gives me great pleasure to an¬ 
nounce to you that your Pierre, our little 
soldier, was to-day cited by me for special 
bravery and praised in my most eloquent 
French, in his presence. 

“ Few men in the French army have 
rendered a greater service to their country 
than has Pierre to France. In behalf of 
the lost division, which due to his valor is 
not lost at all, I thank you from the depths 
of my heart. The rest of the army in my 
sector returns thanks to you as well. And 
I am sure that all Frenchmen will join 
with me in congratulating you on the pos¬ 
session of such a dog. 

“ His name is and ought to be forever 
emblazoned on the honor roll of France. 

“ Please may I also express the love of 
all France for her great actress. I greet 
you, Madame, with my lowest bow and I 
also extend to you my personal and most 
grateful love. May you and Pierre enjoy 
the rest you have so well earned. You 
have done your part, so rest in the joy of 
a glorious victory for France. 

“ Your obedient servant, 

‘‘ General Gerundo.” 


“Now,” concluded Madame joyfully 


200 A GENTLEMAN FROM FRANCE 


giving Pierre a great hug, and a kiss on 
his face, “ let’s make our plans for the 
fete. I want it something which will 
always be remembered at the chateau.” 


The End 


r -S’ 




































































